That Which Has Passed
by Hyper-SpaceGrl
Summary: This is what SHOULD have happened at the Forbidden Pool. When Frodo and Sam decide to rid themselves of Gollum, what becomes of them then? This tries to stay faithful to the Tolkien literary style.
1. Prologue: Justice Be Done

**That Which Has Passed**

Summary: This is what _should_ have happened at the Forbidden Pool. When Frodo and Sam decide to rid themselves of Gollum, what becomes of them then? This tries to stay faithful to the Tolkien literary style.

Disclaimer: I don't own and am not in any way affiliated with the LotR books or movies or any characters therein. This is just for fun.

Book-based; OC centric. NOT a Mary Sue, NOT a fangirl-gets-zapped-into ME, and does NOT follow the books line-by-line with some characters replaced and comments thrown in the middle. (I think I stole about 10 lines from Tolkien in the whole fiction, which is quite long.) So, if you're reading this, it's best if you have actually read the books first so you know what's going on.

Having said that, ENJOY :)

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Prologue: _Justice Be Done_

Frodo watched the waters of Ithilien's Forbidden Pool running below him and momentarily saw something jump in that was much too large for a fish. He crawled down to the side of the pool and looked in at the object. Not for the first or last time on his journey, he was reminded of one of Bilbo's proverbs. _There are three kinds of people in this world, Frodo my lad: those who look after others, those who look after for everyone including themselves, and those who look after only themselves._

Gollum was certainly the latter, Frodo thought bitterly; all he cared about was his Precious and his daily food. "Fissh, nice fissh," he was saying. "White Face has vanished and now we can eat nice fissh in peace." He looked upon the creature with both pity and disgust. Frodo approached closer, and what he heard next made his blood run cold. "No, not in peace, my Precious, for Precious is lost. Nasty Hobbits, gone and left us, only poor Sméagol all alone. Throttle them! Kill them all if we gets the chance. Nice fissh."

He went on thus for a long time, but Frodo paid little attention; what he'd heard was quite enough to make his stomach churn. He turned away, a great conflict beginning within him. The huntsmen stood above with bent bows. He could still order them to shoot, and he would never have to worry about this treacherous creature again. But what would become of him and Sam then? To be lost in territory unknown to them without a guide was as good as giving up the Quest entirely. Yet, cries of _Throttle them_! echoed hauntingly in his mind. He did not know what kind of deception Gollum had in mind, whether he would kill him and Sam in their sleep or lead them on an unnecessarily long path to Mordor and take the Ring for himself in the process. Gollum's constant mumblings about leading the Hobbits to a mysterious place in order to serve some hidden purpose of his own had not remained completely hidden to Frodo.

Slowly at first, then more quickly, he turned away form the pool, ascending to where Faramir stood waiting for a verdict. Frodo had neither the heart to order to shoot nor the heart to rescue this deceptive creature.

"Ah, Frodo, I see you have returned. But where is your companion? Is he following? I do not see him."

Frodo struggled uncomfortably for a few moments before answering. "No, he is below, still. As I approached, I heard him speaking ill of all of us. He is bloodthirsty and would have no qualms about throttling all of us in our sleep. I grew unsure and afraid, and I had not the heart to rescue him. You have asked me to counsel you on this matter, Captain; but I fear that I am not fit to give you advice concerning Gollum."

"I know too little of this creature to judge his character. But you say that he wishes to kill. That alone gives him an ill favor, whether he carries it through or not. We of Gondor are men of honor; we do not think highly of those who do not uphold that same standard."

"Neither do I, sir," Sam spoke up suddenly, blushing when both Faramir and Frodo looked at him. "That is, if you don't mind me saying so. Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo but I was just thinking: What good should it do to keep Gollum around?"

"I would be rid of him too, Sam. But if you say he has done no good, you forget both Emyn Muil and the Dead Marshes. We would have been lost long ago had it not been for Gollum. We do not know this other, more secret path to Mordor any better, and I fear we have yet to be lost if we—" here he suppressed a shudder – "ordered him dead."

"When I asked you if I could aid you in any way on your journey, I was sincere, Frodo son of Drogo," interjected Faramir. "If you shall rid yourself of this treacherous guide, then I shall provide for you a loyal one: one who is willing to go through the fires of the Nameless Land with you."

"That is kind of you, Captain Faramir," Frodo said with a deep bow. "May you be richly rewarded for your compassion. Yet, doubt still lingers in my mind. Is this just? Is it proper to put an end to a creature that has kept its promise to guide wherever needed?"

Sam half scoffed at the comment and looked as if he would say something, but he didn't. Instead, Faramir spoke. "If you desire my counsel on this matter, I will give it, though I am not often wont to do so. But it is only counsel. The final decision is yours alone, Frodo. If it shall be between your life and his, then it must be his. For if your errand fails, then what hope is left? I must do that which is best for my fair City. I must do my part to see that this errand is accomplished. Your chances grow too slim, I think, as long as this Gollum is with you. Is it just? I say yes; for by merely entering the Forbidden Pool as a trespasser in our most secret waters, he is deserving of death, no matter how pitiable he might be."

Frodo turned to glance at Sam. "You know what I think, Master. But whatever decision you make I will stand by it and by you."

"Whatever your choice be, make haste!" Faramir said. "My men's arms grow weary aiming a bow without loosing the arrow."

Quite a few things happened in the next few moments. Frodo shouted, "Shoot, and let justice be done!" Faramir thrust forward a rigid hand into the blackness. There was the sound of many arrows swiftly flying through the air. A piercing final cry came from below, and was promptly muffled. Sam heaved a great sigh of relief, but Frodo sank to his knees in despair. "What have I done?" he cried out.

Faramir firmly laid his hands on Frodo's shoulders. "You did what needed to be done. No, do not weep! It is over now, and you cannot change that which has passed. Come now, and get as much sleep as you may. In the morning, we shall discuss this new change of events, and what shall become of your Quest."

Frodo sat for a few more moments in shock and grief. Sam sat next to him, waiting patiently. "It's all right, Mr. Frodo. It's all over now."

"Yes, it's done. It's over." Frodo suddenly got the feeling that he was waking from a rather queer dream. "But how shall I live with the guilt, Sam? I was responsible for his life, for good or no. And what if this leads to the demise of our Quest?"

"We shall not speak of that now. But Captain Faramir promised you he'd set things right. He's turned out to be a true and noble man. I have no doubt that everything will turn out for the better."

Needless to say, Frodo didn't sleep well that night. Whenever he closed his eyes, images of Faramir thrusting his hand forward ran through his mind, and he heard the sound of his own voice, of merciless arrows, and of Gollum's pitiful last cry.

He woke not two hours after he finally drifted into a fitful slumber. The dawn had not yet come. He heard soft voices talking several feet away. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he rose and saw Sam and Faramir turning to face him. Sam was beaming, and he looked more content than ever, as it seemed to Frodo.

"Mr. Frodo!" he cried. "Good morning, sir!"

"Frodo, it is good to see that you have risen," Faramir said. "We are in haste, and we have much to discuss." He sat at the head of the long dining table and motioned for the two Hobbits to do likewise. It was already furnished with wooden cups and plates set with fresh apples, cheese, and ham. "We must eat rather quickly. Afterwards, we will replenish your thinning packs with provisions. Then we should depart as soon as that is finished. The sooner we start out, the better it will be for everyone.

"I cannot spare any one of my men to go with you," Faramir continued, "and not many would be truly willing to pass through the Nameless Land with you even if I commanded them to do so. We must make for Minas Tirith in search of your guide, who is to be someone who has studied ways into that Land. The City is not far off from your course – in total, it lies some twenty-five leagues from here. We must ride south towards the Crossroads, as you would have to do at any rate. We then turn west just north of Osgiliath, and a little further south and west lies Minas Tirith, the White City, Capital of Gondor. If we make haste, we can reach it ere the moon rises tonight. Some of my men will linger here, and others will hasten to strengthen Osgiliath; but a few will follow us to Minas Tirith, for war will come there swiftly from Minas Morgul. That, perhaps, shall be the end of Gondor as we know it, as Mithrandir prophesied." He paused and gazed into the west towards his City. He continued as if to himself. "Alas that these evil days should be mine! Would that I lived in the days when Gondor was great and Minas Tirith was fair, and Osgiliath fairer. But one must do the best he can with the days that are granted him."

Frodo heard the last comment and nodded thoughtfully. "You speak truly, Captain," he said. "And I must do my best to follow the path that I have chosen. Would I revoke last night's decision knowing what I know now? I cannot say, but it is not for me to judge what I should have done or what could have been. I feel that, if Minas Tirith is as close as you say, it is best to search there for another guide, and then make for Mordor by dawn tomorrow. Let us prepare to leave now!"

Their packs were promptly replenished with provisions, and seemingly out of nowhere, four horses were produced, bridled, and saddled. The caves of Henneth Annûn did not seem like proper places to keep horses, but Frodo and Sam did not know all of the hidden ways of that place; obviously, there was some sort of hidden spot that served as a stable. Frodo rode with Faramir on his horse; Sam rode with Anborn on another.

The sun was just beginning to cast a red glow on the horizon when Frodo and Sam gazed in wonder at the City of Minas Tirith for the first time. It was majestic, one of the makings of Gondor's people of old, when the land was at the height of its great Empire. Its turrets tall and proud were dexterously crafted in fine stone, and intricately chiseled with fine details. Seven tiers the City had, the highest one containing a white tree in a courtyard of stone.

They dismounted at the gate. Though Faramir chose to enter the City through a side gate, men looked upon him and his small company with joy and cried, "Lord Faramir! The Lord Faramir has returned!" Some asked him to tell tales of where he had been and why he carried with him two Halflings. But Faramir answered, "Peace, friends! I am in haste, and I have an errand to run that will not wait. My tales can wait for some other time."

He turned aside to Anborn. "I have decided who it is that our friends will follow. Do you recall Tallah?"

The mention of the name made Anborn's eyes flash. "Surely I do, Lord. But I cannot say that she will make a better guide than the creature they are now rid of. She answers to no one. And how shall she guide them through the Nameless Land if she cannot fight?"

"Despair not!" Faramir replied. "You do not know her as well as I. She answers to me. And he is stiff-necked, but not one to throttle people in their sleep, as Gollum would have undoubtedly done to these poor Halflings. She needs not to know how to fight; this errand is to be done in secrecy rather than by force. Will you not go to her? She dwells in one of the first houses on the third level."

Anborn, apparently convinced that this was his Lord's will, bowed low. "As my Lord wishes." He turned to go.

"Tell her to prepare for a long journey, and quickly, for I am in haste!"

Some time later, Anborn returned with another who walked beside him. She was hard to place, for she was little more than a head taller than Frodo and too large for a Halfling, yet the tall men of Gondor towered over her. She walked with an almost militaristic gait, as one that does not wander without aim. She wore loose robes that completely concealed her frame. Her unruly pale brown hair was tied back with a cord, and she had an almost feral look in her eyes, which were nearly the shade of her hair. Her face was not entirely devoid of beauty, but it was as one chiseled of stone, beset with years of care, cold and stern and proud. She looked as if she never smiled.

Frodo wondered that they should be led into Mordor by any kind of woman; still more, he marveled that it should be this one, if at all she was a full-blooded human. She certainly did not appear to be one of the hardy Gondorian women.

"What does my Lord command?" she asked, eyes fixed on Faramir with only a half-curious sidelong glance at the two Hobbits. "Surely, my Lord would not cast me away from my City that I hold dear, although every soul in Bree begged him to do so?"

Faramir's gaze softened, and he spoke in a hushed tone, when he was sure that there were no overly curious onlookers. "Surely not; for you misinterpret this scene. These are two Halflings that have come in search for a guide, but not to search you out in particular. You are to lead these two into the Nameless Land in secrecy. Tell no one that this task has been assigned to you. Neither shall you question the purpose of these two Halflings. Make haste in leaving the City; this is a thing that must be done, and soon. Avoid the ruins of Osgiliath at all costs. The Enemy will strike there even ere this City, for it lies directly on the River Anduin,"

"Mordor!" the woman exclaimed in a frightened tone, and it seemed to them that all that the earth shook for a few brief moments.

"Do not utter that name here!" Faramir commanded sternly.

"It is one thing to simply say the name; it is another to actually enter into that land. I am your loyal servant, but this is folly. Not for all the riches in the world should one be forced to do this," she replied.

"What other choice do you have? For we have foreseen war coming to Minas Tirith, and now it will arrive in a matter of days. Where then will you turn when this City is besieged?"

Tallah broke eye contact and looked at the floor. When she spoke, it was as if to herself. "I know not. But it seems I would be forced to flee for my life at any rate. Better to leave before the first signs of siege than to try to escape moments before it." She turned again to the Lord Faramir, her eyes resolute. "I will do as my Lord wishes!"

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A/N: What did you think? Please review, even if you hated it. 


	2. 1: Riders From the West

**Disclaimer**: If I could write like Tolkien, I'd be rich. But I can't (though I try), and I'm not rich, so please don't sue me.

**A/N**: I hope everyone liked the last chapter! This one will be a little slower, but I think after this it gets very interesting, so I'm posting Chapter 2 with it. By the way, this is a completed work, so the **more reviews** and interest I get, the **faster I will update**. Please review if you read, even if you don't like it. I'd like to know what I may be doing wrong.

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**Chapter 1**: Riders From the West

So it was that I came into the service of Lord Faramir, though it was not for the first time. I knew that it was a sore trial that was set before me – one does not walk into the shadow of Mordor for leisure – but nothing anyone could have said would have prepared me for what I was to face. Undoubtedly, it was for the better that no one said more of my mission beforehand; otherwise I would have been very loth to go, and if it had not been completed completed, all of Middle-earth would have been forever covered in utter shadow.

As it was, I set out ignorantly as I led the two Hobbits to a back gate on the Eastern side of the City; for Lord Faramir had made it clear that this was a secret mission. "Greetings young Hobbits. I am Tallah Underhill."

"Underhill!" I heard one of them exclaim. I could not tell which one; I was leading and could not turn about. "Why, that's what—" he stopped abruptly, as if he realized he was about to say something he aught not to say. I turned, but the other interjected before I could question.

"Do not question us concerning surnames. Let it suffice to say that I am Frodo of the Shire, and this is my companion, Samwise."

"The Shire!" I marveled. "It surprised me enough to learn that two Hobbits had reached the distant White City. Now I wonder more that they should be from the Shire rather than Bree. Not that Bree-Hobbits are much given to travels either, but they are more inclined to wander a little away form their homeland than Shire Hobbits."

"Now it is my turn to wonder," Frodo said, "that you should even know what a Hobbit is. Even some of the wise and most learned in lore do not know. More than that, you know also the ways of our people. Perchance have you ever ventured to the Shire?"

"Nay. But it makes for a long tale to tell how I know of Hobbits and their ways. I have not half the time now that I need to tell it." I drew a deep breath, for a moment lost in memory. "Come! The Gate of the City is near. Once we exit, our path leads us East and a little North. We will journey through the wooded region between here and Osgiliath, whose ruins we will avoid by coming to their Northern edge. Then we shall come to the crossroads and the edge of Gondor. Afterwards, we will reach the dreadful Minas Morgul, and from there, we will come to the Nameless Land." My eyes darkened and I squinted into the distance where the frowning wall of the Mountains of Shadow awaited us. Then I turned my mind to the road directly before me; I did not dread the simple journey to Osgiliath.

We went on in silence. Sam and Frodo spoke in hushed whispers behind me, successfully trying not to let me hear a word they said. I found it eerily quiet, and it seemed ominous, worse than any din. But after a few hours, Frodo approached me. "Do you hear that?"

I cocked my head to the side, listening. "No. But I have not the ears of a Hobbit. What is it?"

"I hear at least two riders approaching. I fear they might be some of the Nine. We ought to conceal ourselves, and if it turns out that they are not foes, then we will call to them."

"The Nine!" I exclaimed in a hushed whisper. I had never encountered any, but I had heard tales how they could merely scream and drive a stout-willed man mad.

We all scrambled to hide behind a group of shrubs that concealed us perfectly. Soon, we saw through the gaps that we dared to peek through not black steeds but two brown ones, and instead of ghostly riders, two mortal men. I breathed a sigh of relief. Soon, they rode up next to each other and started to consult.

"What do you see? I know they came this way, but I believe that they are some way ahead of us still. I have lost sight of them."

"I see nothing," answered the other. "I believe they are heading East and a little North. We had best keep looking, even if it leads to our death out here in the wilderness. For I know not what this mighty weapon it is of which the Lord Denethor speaks, but I know that he strongly fancies it. We have seen what he is capable of doing; and if we fail to bring it back, no doubt he will do all that he can with us."

I did not listen to much more. I did not care much to subject myself to the will of Denethor, be he Steward or no. But with that authority, the second rider was right in saying that he could grant both death and misery to those who did not obey his will. Obviously, one of these Hobbits carried something he greatly desired. What would he do if he learned that I was leading them on? I did not wish to be held accountable for going against his will once more; I had tried his will one too many times.

I tried to rise in order to talk to the riders, but I was held down by a Hobbit on either side. When I tried to call out, a firm hand clasped over my mouth. I watched the riders move off, East and slightly North. Once they were well out of sight and earshot, I was released, and the hand was removed from my mouth. I rose swiftly, indignant.

"Why did you not allow me to confer with them? It could be that Lord Faramir has repealed his decision for me to lead you to this vain journey to the East. Even if he has not, it is clear that it is the wish of Lord Denethor for us to turn back with this weapon that you carry, and he has say over his son Faramir."

"It is obvious that these riders are messengers sent to tell us to turn back," Frodo replied. "But if that is indeed the case, the one who sent them has erred. You are to know nothing of our Mission. Let it be enough to say that it is no weapon that I carry; it is not to be treated lightly. I must reach Orodruin which is called Mt. Doom or die trying. If I do not, all of Middle-earth will fall into an undying shadow, and not even the wise and foresighted will be able to see a ray of hope at the end."

"I am impressed with your level of courage, young Hobbit, and also with your skill of putting words into tales. But have you not been told that the borders of that Land are all but impassable? Do you not know that the Land itself is swarming with the Enemy's troops who hardly close an eye? Then there is _The_ Eye, which is ever watchful. It sees all and never shuts."

"All of this I know. Yet, this task has been set before none other than me. If I do not find a way, I will not find a safe haven in any kingdom of Men or Elves or Halflings, and neither will there be a refuge for anyone. If I do succeed, the flames of that Lidless Eye will be quenched forever."

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo," Sam interjected. "But shouldn't we be moving off now? It's starting to get mighty dark, and that's not due to the hour of day, I fear. It can't be an hour before midday."

Frodo turned to me. "I am in haste. Already this land is darkening in the Enemy's shadow. Will you not lead on? For you cannot turn back. Your City shall be under siege shortly if it is not already. The sooner we turn East, the greater are the chances of the Sun shining upon Minas Tirith again."

His words had a great impact on me. I stepped back as if he had dealt a physical blow, and then I inhaled deeply. "I am sure that we are all going to our deaths. Yet what hope is there if I turn back to the West? Alas for Minas Tirith that I love – my City and the closest thing I ever had to a home." I thought about its white stones tall and proud, and its tiers fair to look upon, the white tree in the courtyard of stone, and the magnificent Tower of the Guard, all in all a splendid sight, the epitome of Gondor's glory. "Let us depart!" I cried at last, not wishing to think of the siege any longer.

We trekked on East and North, as we had been going before. This time, we saw no sign of Denethor's riders; the trail of Halflings is beyond all but the most skilled huntsmen to find, and far more difficult to follow.


	3. 2: A Song in the Dark

**Disclaimer**: If I could write like Tolkien, I'd be rich. But I can't (though I try), and I'm not rich, so please don't sue me.

**A/N**: I know… the song's not the best. But, our heroine is not an expert songwriter either, so it kind of works. :) Again, review even if you think everything is terrible. Let me know if this is still staying faithful to Tolkien's style.

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**Chapter 2**: A Song in the Dark

We came just South of the ruins of Osgiliath. Its tall stone towers could still be seen from afar; from where we stood, I looked at the pale gray of Gondor's former Capital, proud but vague and ruined. I wished that I could have seen it instead at the height of its glory. If Osgiliath which had been so grand could be reduced to this, then what of Minas Tirith? What would my City resemble after the hosts of Mordor assaulted it? Would there be one pillar left that still stood, or would there be a single stone left untouched?

I turned sharply away from Osgiliath. I had to go on, for I could not bear to dwell one moment longer on the images of Minas Tirith in a heap of rubble. "Make haste!" I cried as we crossed a small ford about three miles South of the old city. "The Lord Faramir was not jesting when he said that the Enemy would strike here first and hardest."

The sun was getting low on the horizon in a fierce display of crimson and orange and deep gold when we reached the crossroads. Frodo looked along the long north-south road and ahead at the short pass that led to Morgul. "Which way?" he asked.

"East," I responded, "and ever East henceforth. These crossroads mark the last portions of civilized and friendly lands. I shall have to cross this line eventually. But I cannot do it in a simple step."

A terror filled my heart suddenly, and I looked North towards the statue of the King of old. It was titanic, and weathered away by the years, much more so than when I had seen it last in more friendly times, when I had not feared to cross this road. But the statue was marked by a much more horrifying mutilation. Atop, where the head should have been, there was a crude stone crafted in the likeness of a face with a singular red eye branded on the middle of its brow. I turned away in horror, but as I did so, I noted that the King's head had been rudely deposited on the ground nearby. It was badly marred, here broken or cracked, there scrawled upon in mockery with some crude tool. Many of the former facial features could not be discerned. I sank to my knees, despairing, and I noticed that the two Hobbits had come up behind me and were looking at the stone head with curiosity.

"Alas that the Enemy destroys everything we have, even our bit of feeble hope," I said. "I have heard rumor that the King is returning to Gondor at last. Will he not come? Or will he fall lifeless onto the battlefield, to be maimed and hewed by Orc-axes, even as this stone?"

The sun, or what was left of it, was now a sullen blur on the Western horizon. Even then, it shined brighter than it had during the day. This, I feared, would be the last glorious sunset before the twilight of the East covered all. For, by some device of the Enemy, the days were steadily darkening.

But for a moment, the sun broke through the clouds, and briefly illuminated the King's fallen head. And we beheld it, and saw that a wreath of flowers was placed over his head, as if someone had come by to coronate him.

"Look, Mr. Frodo! The King has got a crown again!" Sam exclaimed.

"There is hope left," the other replied. "They cannot conquer forever!"

I stood in silence, continuing to gaze at the fallen head even after the sun had once again hidden itself behind the cover of the clouds. And my heart was a little lighter, but my body no less tired.

"We shall rest here tonight," I said. "I can go no further, and I am sure you are just as weary," I said to the two Hobbits. "And at any rate, it is safer to stop here than on the road to Morgul. We shall continue before the hour of dawn, though if we waited for a true dawn, we would never get started, I fear."

I could not sleep that night; my mind was too preoccupied with worries. Why were these two Hobbits going to Mordor? Surely, they knew they were walking to their deaths. What was their purpose, and why was it so secret? Faramir had told me to lead them on; so why had Denethor sent riders to trap and recall us? What was the Mighty Weapon that he fancied so?

Most of all, I worried about Minas Tirith. I pictured tens of thousands of cruel Orcs surrounding it, hurling stones at it, and trying to make it go down in history as the cruelest and most short-lived siege. I grew concerned for many of the City's civilians, whom I had befriended. But most of all, I thought of the landscape that first captured my heart. I determined that I would be strong and not succumb to tears; but the more I thought about cruel Orc stones breaking the ancient towers of the City, the more upset I became. Finally, I started to shake, and I looked up at the starless sky with tears in my eyes. And all of a sudden, as if it was the last thing I could do to bring myself some cheer, I started to sing. My voice was cracked and broken by tears, but I sang out in a muffled voice:

_So beautiful that City was,  
__And each stone laid with care,  
__All Gondor's glory it displayed,  
__In towers proud and fair._

I sang over and over again as I thought of Minas Tirith in its beauty. Then suddenly I stopped, for I heard stirring behind me. I jumped to my feet, prepared to run, though I knew I could outrun no Orc. But it was Frodo, whom I had woken up. He sat up, one hand propping up his chin. "I am sorry," I told him, and sat back down. "I did not mean to wake you."

"I do not think it was you who woke me. Even a slight change in the breeze can cause me to stir nowadays. But your song made me curious. Come, tell me more about it."

I sighed. I was not wont to talk at the moment, but then, I could think of no better use of my time. Sitting, staring at a cheerless sky, and brooding would not help me sleep easier. "It is no song of the wise or fair, as you could probably have divined, and that verse does not do my City proud in the slightest. It is a stanza from a song I wrote about my life, though it sounds outlandish to do such a thing."

"I think not," Frodo said. "My cousin with whom I lived in the Shire was always writing songs about everything – about his life, his adventures, his feelings. I miss him dearly." He had a distant look in his eyes, as if remembering a lot of things all at once. "But that is another story. I should very much like to hear yours now."

I looked up quite suddenly, for I heard more stirring in nearby, and I saw that Sam had now sat up as well. He approached us curiously, taking his seat next to Frodo and facing me.

"My past is no matter for small talk," I began, "and my song is as one of a foolish child compared to all others of my people. The words are few and simple, and the melody elementary. Yet, if you seek sleep, then perhaps one stanza of my song shall provide that for you!" I laughed grimly before I reluctantly began:

_Long years I spent in the Northwest,  
__Among folk big and small.__  
__Like a shadow I dwelt in the Bree-land,  
__As a mystery to all._

_Though I dwelt there with my kin,  
__No comfort did I find.  
__I longed to travel the wide world,  
__And restless was my mind.  
_

_Ere long the secret was disclosed  
__That I was of Mixed Race.  
__Then I was frowned and spat upon,  
__And looked on with disgrace._

_As an outcast I turned to the East,  
__To the very Edge of the Wild.  
__My eyes beheld nothing save dark, grim land,  
__And I forgot how to smile._

_How I wearied of aimless wandering,  
__And how I longed for home!  
__But I would long be bound to this fate –  
__Forever doomed to roam._

_After long years I traveled South,  
__With no hope of a home,  
__Until I saw the White City,  
__And then I ceased to roam._

_So beautiful that City was,  
__And each stone laid with care,  
__All Gondor's glory it displayed,  
__In towers proud and fair._

_All Big Folk frowned at me, but I  
__Stood strong and took my place.  
__And at long last, I was received,  
__Though I was of Mixed Race._

_In lore and maps I became learned,  
__And all the Big Folk wondered.  
__At last, their love and trust I earned –  
__Thenceforth, I never wandered._

I turned to Frodo and Sam, who had both remained silent. Sure enough, Frodo's eyes were closed, and I thought he had drifted into slumber from boredom, and Sam stared blankly into the distance as though he could doze off at any moment. But Frodo spoke after a few moments. "I liked it better than I should have from your description of it."

"Yes, I did too," Sam finally spoke up, albeit hesitantly. "It reminded me of one of old Mr. Bilbo's rhymes." And, with a tired yawn, he stretched out on the ground once again and was soon asleep.

Frodo, apparently still unable to find rest, stayed sitting up a while longer. "Something still puzzles me about your song," he said. "You speak in riddles. Tell me what you mean by Mixed Race."

"I was born in the Bree-land. If you have journeyed through there, you know that Hobbits and Big Folk dwell together there in peace. But they do not intermarry. That is what made me an outcast: my mother was a Big Person, and I had a Hobbit father."

"Now part of the riddle is solved, for this is how you know of Hobbits and their ways. The large, unshod feet and the height had also puzzled me, but I will wonder no more."

"You are blessed to be a full-blooded Hobbit. I had much more difficult circumstances to face. I was looked upon as an outcast, and no one understood me. I was mocked incessantly. Finally, I left. At first, it was because I was restless and because I wanted peace from the mockery and quiet. But I continued wandering out of necessity. One cannot remain long in those cheerless lands East of Bree for long without losing all hope and spirit."

"I know of what you speak, for not half a year ago, I had my own adventure in those parts."

"In that case, I am sorry for you. It was good fortune that you did not stay long! I roamed in those wild lands for years, eating what I could from the land, and doing all that I needed to just survive. I would describe it with any word but _adventure_. But, come; let us not talk of this now. We have little hope as it is, and the journey will only become bleaker henceforth. You ought to do as Sam has and sleep in preparation for the next stage tomorrow, young Hobbit."

"You call me _young_, as if I were yet in my tweens."

I laughed grimly. "And are you not? Even if you have come of age, you are still young to me. I would guess that I am at least thirty years your senior."

"That is quite impossible, even if you speak of Hobbit years, unless you have not aged despite all your wild wanderings. For I am going on fifty-one years come this fall."

"What! Fifty-one years! Now I shall marvel again. You do not look a day over your coming of age. Take that as a compliment, if you will, begging your pardon for my ignorance. But I am younger than I look. I look every bit of seventy-five as Hobbits reckon it, but in fact I am only going on sixty-eight. That makes me about thirty-seven in human years."

"Now that sounds like it is within reason. Still, you are eighteen years my senior – I am yet a young Hobbit to you. Well, I shall say goodnight now, and hopefully it will be. Sleep well!"

He turned away and lied down on his side and was asleep shortly thereafter. I stayed up for a little while in thought. Frodo was a Hobbit both compassionate and agreeable, so long as he wasn't in the process of acting as if he were the elder and dictating to me what I ought to do. _No matter,_ I thought, stretching out on my back and trying to sleep myself. _Take each day's worries as they come._ With nothing to worry about for the present moment, I finally fell into a last peaceful sleep.


	4. 3: Revelations on Morgul Road

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything Lord of the Rings.

**A/N**: I'd like to thank everyone for the great reviews for the last chapters! I hope you all will enjoy this one. Again, the more reviews and expressed interest I get, the faster I will update.

Tola brought up a very good point about Gollum unknowingly doing good, but I'd like to say… please, just give me a chance. I'm getting there.

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Chapter 3: _Revelations on Morgul Road_

I woke again in the middle of the night, or so it seemed at first. I felt as if I had hardly slept, and the Sun had not risen. The sky was covered in a stifling brown, and the air was heavy to breathe. The warfare of the Enemy had commenced.

I sat up, reaching for my pack, in which I had stored plenty of provisions for my travels. I looked over to see the two Hobbits doing the same. Some of their foodstuffs were not uncommon to Minas Tirith, but they were holding a strange cake, thin and paler than fresh parchment, the likeness of which I had never before seen. These two Shire-Hobbits, whose kind habitually remained unassumingly in their quiet homeland with no lusts for travel, had journeyed far and wide, for some purpose yet unknown to me.

"I hope that you two are prepared for this stage of the quest. The Morgul Road is no place for jest or leisure," I said.

"Ready or not, we must leave now, for we have not another moment to spare in leisure. Lead on."

So, we left the relative sheltered shadow of the maimed King's stone head and made for the crossroads. We turned East towards Mordor and journeyed along the cheerless Morgul Road. Soon, we saw the terrible city of Minas Morgul looming up to the right. I looked on it with contempt.

"This place is full of nothing but pure evil. Ever has this City been at war with Minas Tirith, save in the days when it was called Minas Ithil and was a great city of Gondor."

Frodo and Sam stared at it too, and the latter frowned on it and turned back to the Road in front. But Frodo did a very strange thing then. He started walking towards the city, his head to the side and his arms outstretched, as if he were in a daze. All I could do was look on in horror; I was completely convinced that he had finally gone mad, whether by the poison of the Morgul air, or by some other device of the Enemy, or by a cause completely unknown to me.

"Do not go towards it! Come back! Our path lies on the Road," I shouted vainly.

Sam turned and ran towards him. "No, Mr. Frodo! Not that way, she says, and I agree with her. Come back towards the Road." To my relief, he guided Frodo back in the right direction. The dazed look wore off Frodo's face, but before he had time to respond, a great, bone-chilling din arose. All three of us scrambled to get off the road. We hid among the large boulders of the Ephel Dúath, in nooks and cracks that we could find to completely shield us from the terror below.

After a few moments, I mustered the courage to raise my head and watch the hosts of Mordor march out of the city. It was a fearsome sight – rows and rows of formidable Orcs all marching heavily, making the sound of iron on stone. But most formidable of all were the Black Riders, the Nine, though not all nine were present. At the head of the line was the Lord of them all, robed magnificently in all black, seated upon a black steed. So terrible he was that I trembled at the mere sight of him. When he shrieked, every joint in my body quaked, and my blood curdled. Never before had I hard such a shrill, terrifying sound. I covered my ears, though it did not do much good.

I looked over at the other two to see them in much of the same state. But Frodo, whom I was still convinced had gone mad, was fingering a small golden ring, which lied in his open palm. He kept motioning as if to put it on, but apparently thinking better of it, drew away his finger each time. When the Orc hosts had finally emptied out of the city, he placed it back on the chain and hung it about his neck, and he concealed it underneath his garments. I wondered at the meaning of this.

"It was good of you not to put it on, Mr. Frodo," Sam put in. "Who knows what would have happened if you had."

"I know, Sam." He looked grave, and worn, as if he bore a great burden. "I cannot forget Gandalf's instructions and precautions."

"Why is the danger so great in putting on a Ring that even Gandalf the Wise would caution you against it? Or is Gandalf not he that my people call Mithrandir, the Gray Pilgrim?"

"That is indeed he. I recall now that Faramir called him by that name," answered Frodo. "But about the perils of the Ring we shall not speak, especially here where it is strongest. You should not question me further concerning this. Were you not told to refrain from inquiring about it?"

"I have already guessed more than you think, young Halfling. I was asked not to question you concerning matters of your mission. Therefore, I know that this Ring must relate to your errand somehow. I do not doubt that this is also the Mighty Weapon that Denethor sought for Gondor. However, that puzzles me, if its power is strongest in the Enemy's Realm."

"Indeed, you have guessed much. Too much for my comfort, I should say. I shall not deny that what I carry has been referred to as a weapon. Yet, it shall not be used as such, indeed for the very reason that you named. It will serve as a weapon to the Enemy alone; it answers to none other. But, come! We should speak no more of this matter."

That little bit of information was all I needed to fill in the missing piece in the puzzle. Whispered rumors and tall tales about this very Ring had weaved their way through Minas Tirith of late. But they were counted as no more than rumors of the past, and none gave any indication that this One Ring had survived throughout the forgotten Dark Ages and even ages ere that. I stood for a few silent moments in shock and disbelief.

"This then is _The_ Ring, which was believed by even the wise to have perished form the Earth? And we are going to try and march it right in the middle of the very stronghold of the Dark Lord. For what purpose? It is folly! Let it rather be cast away forever out of His reach, in the depths of the Sea, or in some far, secret place of the Elves, beyond the Blue Mountains, or even in the endless depths of the delving Dwarves."

Frodo answered, "We cannot chance for it to be found again. Gollum, who had this Thing before Bilbo my predecessor, encountered it by chance while it lied in the depths of a lake near Anduin. This is the only place where it can be unmade, and unmade it must be. I must go on towards the mountain. Will you not lead me there willingly, or must I plead with you for the remainder of the journey?"

I looked from one Hobbit to the next in utter confusion, not knowing what to say. From the start, I had known that this mission was vain, but now I knew that the Enemy would find the Ring as soon as we crossed the borders of Mordor, and they would take us along with It. We were not merely walking into death traps; if we were, I would have continued not to mind. But the torture chambers of Barad-dûr, which lied what seemed like scant miles ahead, were large and cruel; its victims sought and pleaded for the relative peace of premature death. I began to tremble as I thought about being tortured past the brink of sanity, and searing pain placed on each bone in my body every passing moment, surpassing all other pain I had experienced in my life combined. And there would be no rest or a single break, save in eternal sleep.

I finally answered Frodo. "You will have to plea with me no longer. Any of your pleas henceforth will be futile. Frodo, if you seek endless torment, you are on the right path. Otherwise, I beseech you one last time to turn around. Go back to the Shire or wheresoever your heart desires! But if you will insist for whatever foolish reason to continue, then I will tell you the path, but I refuse to lead you a step farther. You must continue East, and make for the pass of Cirith Ungol. It is not far up the road, and it is marked on the left by a high, winding stair. If after mounting it you can find a path across the impenetrable border of the Ephel Dúath, then you must make your way across the Plateau. As soon as you pass the mountains, you will be able to see Barad-dûr and the Eye that closes not. Closer West is the Mountain that you seek."

"Then that path I must take. I see that I cannot force you to go further, and even threat of death does not daunt you. Go your way then! I have not another moment to spare," Frodo said.

"I know not why you do this, but you are courageous beyond reckoning, young Hobbit. I wish that I could say the same of myself. I wish you whatever luck there may be in such times when evil always prevails. I should not wonder if the end of Middle-earth as we know it is near. I am sorry that you are laden with such a task." I felt my eyes sting with hot tears, and this time, I did not fight to hold them back.

Sam, who had been silent throughout the exchange, suddenly grew very red in the face, as if with anger, and spoke up. "You don't know what a burden this task is! Only now, you begin to see. But none other save him will ever understand what being assigned this errand ever meant. All this time we have been kind to you as we know how to be, and you repay us by walkin' off like this!"

The tears flowed freely from my eyes now. What was I to do? I was torn between loyalty to two Hobbits I scarcely knew and the rational desire to flee from what would be unfathomable torture. Yet, I had to make a decision, and I had to make it without knowing what would come of it. I did not know that I would live to regret and mourn the choice that I made; but hindsight is perfect sight, and foresight is foggy at best, and one cannot change that which has passed. Once a decision has been made, it cannot be revoked, and one has to live with its consequences for good or for evil. And, if for evil, one can try to outmatch it with good, but an ounce of wickedness outweighs a pound of righteousness, for a soiled conscience cannot be mended by time or any other healing process known to Man or even Elf.

So, at the time when I made my decision, I looked again from Sam to Frodo, who both looked enraged and as if they were in great haste. Seeing this, I said, "Farewell!" rather shakily before I turned and fled as quickly as I dared.

I did not look back to see the reaction of either of the two; I looked only ahead to where I was going. But where indeed was that, since I had no place to which I could turn for safety or comfort? I had not fled two hundred yards before I slumped behind a boulder that shielded me from the Morgul Road. Why was I running, if without aim? And in which direction would I turn my face next? Surely, not further East, and just as definitely, not back to the North, in the cheerless lands East of Bree and the Edge of the Wild. Furthermore, my City was under siege without a doubt; Minas Morgul was deserted, and ever had that city been at war with mine. Even if the siege ended in triumph of Gondor, would I be able to return and look the Lord Faramir in the eye while telling him of how I deserted the two Hobbits? True that Lord Denethor had sent two riders to recall us, but somehow, that did not make this deed of mine feel right. But at times when I told myself that this would come to no good, and that I had to go back to the Hobbits, my courage would fail me, and I could not muster up the strength to even rise anew.


	5. 4: The Spider's Deeds

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the books, characters, movies, etc.

**A/N**: I haven't updated in a while due to the lack of much interest. If you are starting to read this story and want faster updates, review so that I know I have enough people interested.

Hope you enjoy!

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Chapter 4: _The Spider's Deeds_

I knew not for how long I remained there on the Morgul Road, lost, brooding, and indecisive. All awareness of time and my surroundings escaped me as I became deeply lost in thought. I sat huddled behind the great boulder, afraid of continuing forward, and still more afraid of turning back. What was I to do? I could not spend the rest of my life here until thirst and starvation overcame the failing vital functions of my body; nor could I take a steep in any direction on the compass. What was I to do save sleep, until I awoke with perhaps a new insight to another path that I had not yet known was open?

So sleep I did, for long hours as it seemed, and I slept deeply, though many dilemmas troubled my restless mind. And I did not so much as stir until I finally jerked awake to find my sheltering rock still in front of me, and the fierce wall of the Ephel Dúath still behind. For a moment, I sat, confused, knowing not what to think; for the bliss of ignorant sleep had erased all memory of what had transpired to bring me to this dreadful place. Then I searched my memory, and after I recollected all, I wept hard, and bitterly, for I instantly wished that I hadn't. Now, once again, the dilemma faced me: What was I to do?

Instead of worrying about it right away, I reached for my pack that was still slung on my back. True to my Halfling blood, I habitually ate as I pondered whenever there was something troubling me. I reached in and pulled out some dried fruit and nuts that I had packed for the long journey. As cheerless and unsatisfying as the meal was, it brought me some form of comfort. But nothing could raise my spirits entirely as I thought of Minas Tirith burning, as it doubtless was. It would be razed to the round; there would be nothing left to which I could return. All of the glory of Gondor would be diminished, and all that was good in Middle-earth along with it.

Possibly, all of this was an exaggeration, merely an image formed in my troubled mind. But if it were not, then what refuge would there be for me or anyone else? If the tales of young Frodo about Sauron covering all Middle-earth in shadow were true, would the iron fist of the Orc and the terrifying shadow of the Nazgûl not torment every man, elf, and hobbit?

I knew for certain what the answer to that question was, though I still could not say whether these circumstances about which I questioned myself should in truth come to pass. But as I though of Frodo and his companion Sam out on the Morgul Road alone, willing to set foot in the most treacherous land in the world whether I led them there or no, my heart trembled in pity. I if had wept before on this same Road when I'd learned that I was going to my death, still more did I weep at the thought of those two courageous Hobbits going to theirs; for there was no escape from that land. Yet, they knew this, and all the more did they refuse to turn in any other direction but East.

Before I knew that I was doing, my bag was packed and slung on my back, and I was swiftly rising to my feet. I ran towards the spot where I had last left the two Hobbits. There I beheld the pass that I was expecting, for the Stairs of Cirith Ungol are found on many Gondorian maps, though none of that land has ever been known to venture into the Nameless Land via that pass or any other. More likely than not, I would be the first one from Gondor to do so.

I thought of the path ahead, and how challenging the terrain alone would be to conquer. Still slimmer were the chances of conquering the merciless landscape and finding Sam and Frodo afterwards. They could be hidden, traveling through the smallest niches through which only small Hobbits could travel. The more I thought about it, the more I shook with fear and dreaded what promised to be a nearly impossible journey ahead. Yet, find them I would, or die trying, whether there were people left standing in Minas Tirith to honor my deeds or no. But I still held out some hope, however faint, that by helping Frodo and Sam, I could save my City in time, or if not, I could at least draw the Dark Power that waged war with it out of the world, so that a remnant of Gondor's people could unite and build the City once again.

Because tears filled my eyes, and because other preoccupations filled my mind, I was minimally aware of my surroundings. From what little I did see, the first stair was almost vertical, seemingly stretching to the heavens; even my normally surefooted Hobbit feet slipped countless times. At length, I came to another stair, less steep, more evenly spaced, but it wound, so that each time I thought I was about to come to the end, I rounded another bend. And so it went on, apparently endlessly, until the stair terminated into the entrance to a tunnel. This, too, was dark and wound in so many different directions that I began to wonder if I would ever find Frodo and Sam. But I hastened on as quickly as the dark confines of the tunnel would allow. If did not, I would not find them before it was too late. Even as it was, I began to wonder whether they would be beyond my aid when and if I found them. Nevertheless, I pressed on; I had no other choice but to search.

I groped through the remainder of the tunnel. My head by now was clear, and I had stopped weeping, so that I was more aware of my surroundings. I heard moanings within the deep recesses of the tunnel, but by good fortune, I did not encounter whatever it was that dwelt there. Either because my eyes were starting to adjust, or because I was nearing the end of the tunnel, I began to see a faint light and began heading towards it. At last, it became increasingly brighter, and, sooner than I had expected, I was on the outer pass.

Dark as the land of Mordor was, it appeared bright as the moon in comparison to the obscure tunnel. Such relative light was such a shock that I emerged squinting, and I began to worry that I would not be able to see. I continued groping as I walked along, until, at last, my eyes adjusted. And now that I had regained my sight, I beheld something that gave me many cares of a different and far worse kind.

There sat a grief-stricken Sam, leaning over a limp bundle, tightly bound with thin, dense cords. He rocked it back and forth, and as it leaned to face me, I caught a glimpse of Frodo's face, but it was changed: pale and helpless, unblinking eyes fixed on the heavens. Sam, still too preoccupied with his Master to notice me, stared down at him with tears upon his face and spoke to him softly.

"Mr. Frodo, wake up! It's your Sam calling. Wake up! Don't leave me here alone – don't go where I can't follow!"

At this juncture, I rushed forth, refusing to believe that he was dead. "Samwise! What has happened here?"

He looked up at me with tears in his eyes as I knelt beside him, incredulous. "So, decided to come back now, have you? You're too late." He pressed his master's limp body closer to him. "Just as bad as that Gollum, running off on us like that.

"No one ever understood my Master – no one except me. Everyone made light of the burden he had to bear, because no one else had to carry it himself. And it weighted him down so much, but he never complained, not up to the very end. And now it's too late for him; nothing can bring him back. I must perhaps go along on my own, without him. How I dread the thought! Oh, Mr. Frodo!"

"I am sorry," I gasped, though to say that the apology was quite insufficient would be a dire understatement. "I do not expect you to forgive me, Samwise. But if there is any way I can help you in the quest that you are going to continue, then let me know of it."

"I don't know if I shall continue. Part of me wants to stay here by him forever." He let Frodo's body gently roll to the ground and stroked his hair absently as he tried to regain his sense. I leaned forward to look into Frodo's unblinking eyes, but I was not prepared for the sadness I saw there. And on pondering what Sam had said about his burden, immediately I felt guilty for making light of it. In leaving the two Hobbits to fend for themselves, I had done a grievous thing, and undoubtedly, Frodo had passed on with a sore image of me in his mind. But, though the excuse did not justify my actions, I had not understood; I knew I still didn't. What did this Ring signify, and what made it so burdensome? Was it the sheer amount of power in it that oppressed Frodo so? And who would receive this burden now that he was gone?

With a renewed sadness, I looked into Frodo's face once more. It was deathly pale, but fair and rich with an Elvish beauty, far surpassing that of any other Halfling or Man. For the first time, I noted just how beautiful that face was, all features finely chiseled and etched with great compassion and kindness. Most magnificent of all were the two huge blue eyes, splendid though distant and forlorn. Then, as I thought of his passing and my responsibility for it, I fell on the ground, holding Frodo's limp body close. By chance or fate, my right ear pressed near to his left shoulder, and there, though at first I thought I imagined it, I heard the flutter of a heartbeat, however weak. I sat up in shock and undid the cords that bound Frodo's wrists. Then I knew that my senses did not betray me, for I felt a faint pulse in both.

"Samwise!" I cried, and the other Hobbit promptly rose to his feet. "Put your fingers to your Master's wrists and tell me that you do not feel a pulse." Even as he did so, I stretched out on the ground and placed my head upon Frodo's breast. I felt it swell with breath and could not be convinced otherwise. And as Sam did likewise, he agreed fully, and a look of wonder and relief slowly worked its way across his despondent face, for we both knew that Frodo was alive. We made haste in undoing the cords that encompassed Frodo's body. "How did he come to be in this state?" I asked Sam.

"That makes for a long tale, I daresay. But to put it in simple terms, we came through tunnel, and a big spider came after us." He reached behind Frodo and indicated a spot just below the nape of his neck. "Bit him right here, and bound him up, before I could get to it. But I did get it, eventually. Drove it back into its precious Tunnel, I did. No one hurts my Master and gets away free!"

I laughed, not out of mockery or amusement, but from respect for Sam's bravery and loyalty to his Master. "Never in a living being have I seen such devotion, Sam. May you be richly rewarded for it!"

Soon, Frodo was free of the spider's silk. "We cannot carry him through Mordor as he is now," I said. "And we cannot tarry here long enough for him to wake up. We have already stayed a sufficient time for Orcs to have spotted us from their stronghold." I motioned to the tower that loomed ominously on our left. "Have you an extra garment that will fit over him, and perchance some rope? Thus we can transport him, and he shall be safely hidden if some great need should fall upon us."

"For the spare garment, we can use his Lórien cloak. That will sure conceal him well. And I do happen to have some Elvish rope. Good ol' Galadriel!"

"Who is this one, this Galadriel? Is she not the Elf-witch rumored to live in the Lórien Woods?"

"No, you're quite mistaken on that." Sam's voice rose and his face grew red. "That is, she does live in fair Lórien, but she's no witch, and most certainly the finest and fairest Lady that I've ever come across, begging your pardon for sayin' so. It's a shame that through all those years of wandering you never happened upon the Golden Wood. Would've been much fairer and more welcoming than those wild lands you were roaming. But to tell all there is to be said of the Lady and her Wood would take more time than it would for Mr. Frodo to wake up. The rope—" he reached into his pack and produced it as promised.

"I take it this is the cloak to which you refer?" I tugged on Frodo's outermost garment, the color of which was hard to determine, but it seemed to blend in with the rocks and ash around us. It was fastened at the top with a leaf brooch, which I promptly undid. I started to wind the cloak about Frodo, but Sam stopped me suddenly. He approached his Master and placed a hand to his forehead, speaking to him though he could not hear.

"I know this was entrusted to you, Mr. Frodo. But let me keep it, only for a little while – for safekeeping. I promise to give it back." He reached around Frodo's neck and lifted off the chain with the Ring on it, and he draped it about his own neck. Also, he took a small phial filled with a translucent blue liquid that seemed to glow with a soft light. Last, he removed Frodo's sword, which was quite long for a Hobbit, beautifully crafted, seemingly with the skill and delicacy of Elves. Then I marveled that these two Shire-Hobbits should have traveled so far and wide even as to be named Elf-friends and receive so many gifts and blessings from their hands.

With that done, Sam and I set to work wrapping Frodo in the cloak, which proved easier than I had supposed, for it was quite elastic. We loosely bound his upper arms and lower legs with Sam's Elvish rope so as not to impede his breathing. When we were done, we had successfully reached our goal of keeping Frodo safe, but inconspicuous as a piece of baggage.


	6. 5: Through Cirith Ungol

**_Additional Disclaimer_**: The first four lines exchanged between the Orcs were taken directly from the book and I do not own them, as I do not own anything else related to this story except my original character.

**A/N**: Thanks to all who reviewed! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Please constructively review for this chapter even if you think it's terrible.

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Chapter 5: _Through Cirith Ungol_

"Now, how to get in?" Sam wondered aloud. "There's no going back, that's for sure. But this path seems to dead end right at the front door of that Orc tower, or if not, they can certainly spot us walking past from up there."

"Despair not. I believe that this is actually the rear of said Tower. Even the seemingly most fortified stronghold has dark spaces small enough for a Hobbit to slip through. Our only hope lies in the pass, for we cannot scale these cliffs." I motioned to the frowning walls on either side. "Getting past should be a fairly easy task for me, I should guess. I have become quite skilled over the years in using and wit to evade danger. Come! Let us take the remainder of this pass. Too long have we remained in the open, and not out of the view of the tower you fear."

"Very well, then. I shall carry my Master if it breaks my back, even though you may be a good deal stronger than me."

"All right. But if he become too heavy for you, speak up, and I will do what I can to help you. I probably do have more bodily strength than you."

Finally, we set out, quickly but stealthily as possible, always scanning with eyes and ears to make sure no Orc was about. We stayed as close as we could to the right side of the pass, for the Tower was on the left, and the cliffs on the right side provided more hope of cover should Orcs appear. And, just as we were at the foot of the shallow stairwell in the shadow of the Tower, appear they did, in great numbers. By good fortune, or because they made a typical Orc-racket as they approached, we heard them well before they were able to see us, and we slipped away into a barely visible crevice in the broken boulders of the rocky cliffs. Soon afterwards, another group came from the other direction, evidently out of the tunnel, to meet the first. I crept as far as I dared to the front of the crevice in order to see and hear what I may. Sam sat down and laid Frodo's head in his lap, making the unconscious Hobbits as comfortable as possible with what little room there was on the ground.

"Hai, Gorbag!" the leader of the first group called. "What are you doing up here? Had enough of war already?"

"Orders, you lubber," the other barked back. "And what about you Shagrat? Tired of lurking up there? Thinking of coming down to the fight?"

"Orders to you. I'm in command of this pass. So, speak up! What is your report?"

"We've seen nothing."

Shagrat snarled. "Nothin', eh? Is that the best you Morgul rats can come up with? We thought we saw something moving along the pass – a spy, perhaps two of 'em. Sneaky little maggots, they were, but we saw 'em, several of us did. And our eyes don't deceive us as easily as yours, Morgul Rats."

My heart felt like it had stopped beating altogether and jumped into my mouth, but I had no time to think of my peril. This was the perfect opening for an argument to materialize. I could not lose what could be my only chance. I needed my voice to sound fierce and hot with rage, not as that of one who is being hunted by two great hosts. "Morgul rats, you call us? We do all the fighting for you stinkin' Ungol pieces of baggage, and all you do is sit up in that tower of yours and stare out of windows." I deepened my voice and made it hoarse, until it convincingly sounded like that of an Orc, and I threw it in the direction of the Morgul group. Sam started slightly, and leaned forward to look at me as if I were mad. I simply mouthed the word _Wait._

The ruse worked; Shagrat stepped forward and addressed the group that was obviously form Minas Morgul. "See! All your talk about fighting all high and mighty like, and you don't have the nerves to stand up to me and say what you said to my face. Step forward, the one of you who said that. If you talk of fighting, come forward and get what you want!"

The dispute was underway; soon it would heat up until it was as hot as flame, and it would culminate in physical conflict before long. If I needed to add spark to fuel the fire, I would do so at my discretion. But the need never came. A particularly strong and bold-looking Orc who was standing beside Gorbag stepped forward to challenge Shagrat. "I don't know who said that, but it don't matter. He speaks for me and all of us. We're sick of you Ungol maggots sittin' lazily watching Shelob do your work for you, and then giving us orders. You'll get your fight!"

Quicker than lightning, he produced an arrow from his quiver, strung his bow, and shot Shagrat in the heart at close range. Shagrat cried out as he sank to the ground, and with swift vengeance, the rest of the Ungol Orcs charged at the Orcs of Minas Morgul. Arrows sailed through the air at high speeds, as did heads of various other Orcs, and blade and hand-to-hand combat ensued. Other Orcs from the Tower dashed into the fray, only to be shot down by some Morgul Orcs at the rear. One arrow flew from behind the Orc who had stepped forward, and it pierced the back of his neck. He fell to the ground with a hoarse final cry.

I looked over at Sam with a glance of amusement, which he hesitantly returned. Then he peered out of the crack at the combat, still ongoing but in its final stages, and he reached down to stroked his Master's still head. He started to speak. "I can't leave you, Mr. Frodo, not for one second. But what about those other Orcs?" A peek outside the crack showed that the Morgul Orcs had vanquished the other group, though their numbers were greatly diminished. They were beginning to loot the others' gear, and with all the racket they made, they could never have heard Sam's quiet whispers. "We'll never get through unseen! It's best I go and finish them off. But I hate to leave you."

"I'll look after him, Sam, if there is any comfort in that. You have my word, however little that may mean to you."

Sam looked at me sharply, as if at first he had forgotten that I was still seated across from him. "Tallah promises to look after you, Mr. Frodo." He leaned down and kissed his Master's forehead through the outer cloak. "We must trust to luck." He rose and reached for the chain around his neck, and took the Ring off of it. Then he put it on his finger and, lo and behold! Even as he made the motion, his entire body vanished into thin air. It seemed that he crawled out of the crevice that had concealed him, and leaped into the company of Orcs, for the next moment, I heard a shockingly fierce Hobbit cry. Though he was wholly invisible, I could see the sword that he drew, and it glowed a radiant blue in the surrounding darkness.

I moved to Frodo's side and lifted him with relative ease, bringing him to rest on my lap. And as I reached through a gap in the folds of the cloak that encompassed him, I put my hand to his face and saw that it was no longer as clammy as it had previously been. His breast swelled with breath slightly more rapidly. The poison was wearing off.

A few moments later, Sam reappeared, standing in front of the crevice with the Ring in its proper place on the chain around his neck. He looked as one who has just won a great victory in battle, thought not without great pain and price.

"Well, I took care of the rest of them. We'd best be moving along, before we get any more visitors." He nodded in the direction of the Tower that loomed close above us now.

"You speak rightly." I climbed out of the crevice, taking a moment to stretch my cramped muscles. Then I lied on the ground, reached for Frodo, and dragged him out as tenderly as possible with Sam's aid.

"Wait!" Sam cried suddenly, and he smacked a hand to his brow. "Samwise, you ninnyhammer! If we're going through enemy land, it's best to be disguised as the enemy."

I caught his meaning directly and wished to strike my own brow for not having thought of it. "Again, a wise thought. But do you think that the Orc gear will fit us properly? And what of Frodo?"

"It won't fit like gear made for us, or this Elvish stuff, of course. But we'll have to make due. Perhaps we can find Frodo something somewhere else along the road."

We examined all the Orc gear on the limp bodies and hastily donned the mail and helms of the Morgul Orcs, which fit us much better than the others, for they were built slightly shorter but stouter. Sam had no need of a sword, for he still carried Sting, but I had taken a long knife for my own defense, though I had little knowledge of how to brandish it. There was a little room in each of our packs to fit a few minimal items for Frodo to put on when he returned to consciousness.

Once we were done, Sam carried Frodo once more, and we resumed our journey, this time as alleged Orcs carrying a bound prisoner through Mordor.


	7. 6: Into the Nameless Land

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even a set of pajamas that fits me properly.

A/N: Thanks to my reviewers! Please review for this chapter, even if you are disappointed.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 6: _Into the Nameless Land_

The shallow steps near the Tower of Cirith Ungol were the last things we reached before the pass came to an apex. After that, it sloped downward and narrowed until it was little more than a rut amongst the rocks and crags. Just a few yards further it wound slightly to the right and disappeared for a short period among the rocky cliffs of the Mountains of Shadow. And below us, we beheld at last the land of Mordor, more bitter and barren than any desert, laden with ash and smoke, and overrun with Orcs beyond all fathomable numbers. Beyond was the terrifying red, lidless Eye, wreathed in flame, formidable to behold. Slightly West of it stood Mount Doom; it was almost as high as the mountain on which we stood, and loomed over the plateau below.

"Now this is where the dilemma faces us, Sam. It does not help that I do not know the details of this land. Only strongholds and landforms very near the Western and Northern borders are known. But here we have the best view of the land around us. North and still East is your Mountain. It seems like we have two good main options of reaching it. This road goes to it directly, if it is straight. That would be the quicker route, but it is likely that Orcs would spot us far before we reached the Mountain. The longer, more discreet route runs along the sides of the Mountains of Shadow, which look difficult to navigate, but are not impassable. I shall be able to guide you – and Frodo when he wakes up – through them without a problem. From there, we can cut due East, or as nearly as we can to it without being discovered, to your Mountain."

"That's an awful lot to take in. But I'm not for the idea of sticking close to an Orc road! It seems we must take the longer route, so that we can avoid danger, as we have often had to do on this journey," he sighed.

"Let us go, then, and find somewhere where we may spend the night. My body grows weary as if it were sundown, though there is no Sun to tell the hour in these dark lands."

As subtly as we could, we turned left and north, carefully descending the perilous slopes of the Ephel Dúath with as much haste as possible. It was not a task that I would deem particularly easy. The rocks were steep and jagged and required some navigation and slight detours in our path. Some were treacherous, causing us to stumble though we had sturdy Hobbit feet.

In one place, I, who was leading, heard the sound of a loose rock slipping. Turning around, I saw that it had come from underneath Sam's foot. He began to slip, and it was hard for him to regain his balance while trying to keep Frodo safe in his arms. I rushed back a few paces just as he started sliding, and placed my foot securely on the ground, askew to his. His weight shifted backwards, and before he fell completely, I was able to slip a supportive arm across his back. With my other free hand, I grasped Sam's right arm, which had been supporting Frodo's head from potential damage or injury, to help him get up. Then he rose fully, with Frodo still held securely in his grasp, and as he looked at me slowly, I caught a definite glimpse of gratitude in his eyes, though he appeared also as if he were surprised. I retuned the glance with a smile, glad to see that he was, albeit slowly, regaining some faith in me.

Neither of us had a chance to speak, however, before we saw the bundle in Sam's arms shake with a sudden jolt. Then Sam and I started nearly as much, from surprise and eagerness. At last, Frodo was awake!

"Master!" Sam cried at once, and he sat hastily back on the ground. "Dear Master!"

I rushed to Sam's side, and we both started undoing the cords that bound Frodo. I freed him of his cloak and cast it aside. Frodo lied there for a moment in shock, but he had certainly come back to consciousness. His face was not as deathly pale, and he made a few voluntary arm motions; his eyes blinked again and he was trembling, as out of fear. Finally, he caught sight of us. I thought he would jump for joy and move to embrace Sam, though I fully expected him to shun me. Strangely, he fingered a spot by his lower neck, and then his left hand moved to his waist as if to draw a sword. When he discovered that this was absent, he became quite frantic, and backed away, as if uncertain what to do. But Sam caught him and clasped a hand on his shoulder. "Master! It's me, your Sam! Don't you know me?"

"Oh, Sam! Never have I been so relieved to hear you speak. But the Orc helm deceived me at first, and I knew not what to think." And he moved to embrace his friend, as I thought he would, and the eyes of both grew moist with joy. When they withdrew, Sam spoke first.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo. I had to take it. The Ring, I mean. I saw you looking for it. I promised it was only for safekeeping." He slowly removed the chain from his neck, and held the Ring in his hand. "I almost hate to give it back to you, Mr. Frodo, being that it's such a burden."

Frodo snarled and grew hot with rage, and a look of fury, the likeness of which I never expected to see in his innocent features, made its way across his face. "You will give it to me!" And he snatched the Ring from where it hung on the chain in Sam's hand, reeling back a few steps. Then his features reverted and he heaved a deep sigh, placing the chain around his neck once again. At once, it visibly weighed him down; he bowed his back as if he had been toiling hard all day.

"I am sorry, Sam. I know you meant well. Instead, I ought to have thanked you for all that you have done for me. But where are we now? Not in the very Nameless Land itself! How did we come to be here? My memory fails me after we emerged from the tunnel."

"Ah, that makes for a long story," replied Sam. "We've gone far enough for today. Why don't we go a little further and find a place to rest and eat? Then you shall hear all about it."

"Let us be off, then!" Frodo answered.

"Wait a moment, if you please," I spoke up for the first time since the two old friends were reconciled. Frodo looked over at me with shock on his face, and I felt my own face grow red with shame, but I continued. "Sam, shall we allow him time to don the Orc gear now, or is it best to be done later?"

"The Orc gear! Bless me, I'd completely forgot about it," Sam said, at the same time that Frodo looked at me and exclaimed, "What, Tallah! You've returned!" though I could not tell whether it was with repulsion or glee. Then so much ran through my mind that I wanted to say to Frodo, but before I had even decided what I was to start with, I found that Frodo had thrown his arms around me in a quick embrace, which I gladly reciprocated.

"Yes, I returned, though I regret now that I departed to start with. Too late did I realize what a great burden you had to bear. I am sorry, Frodo, utterly sorry."

During this brief period, Sam had not been idle. He had removed from his pack the Orc-mail we had chosen for Frodo's disguise, and Frodo took and donned it. I removed from my pack the high and heavy Orc helm, and Frodo took it and set it on his head. Last, I gave to him the Orc-sword, which hung in its sheath from my side; Sam, with Frodo's consent, kept charge of Sting. When he was finished, Frodo looked every bit of the Orc that should be roaming these lands, even if he was too short of stature and too fair of face; the Orc helm concealed much of the latter shortcoming.

At last, we were moving again. After a few minutes, we came to a well-concealed ridge. The wall of the mountains still loomed up on our left, tall and hard and black as ash. To out right, still more rocks rose up to form a sort of short cleft. A glance above this showed the land that lied below, but not as far beneath as it had been when Sam and I left the shadow of the Tower. It was here that we decided to spend our night. We ate and drank what we could, from the provisions stored in Sam's pack and in mine.

"I am sorry that we had to leave yours, Mr. Frodo. But you were the more important burden to bear. I could not take both. I did manage to get most of the food you had in with mine, and the extra water-skin. Strikes me as we'll need it here where water is most vital but scarce."

After our small and quite unsubstantial meal, if it could be named as such, our trio sat and reclined as comfortably as it might.

"Now that we are at our leisure for the moment, I should like to hear the whole of your story," said Frodo. "Yes, the whole, as long as that may take, for I am quite curious. I do not wish for you to leave out one single detail."

"And I, too, know little of your journey to the point where I returned to find Frodo lying on the ground apparently dead," said I. "Would that I had not done such a foolish thing, and that way also I would not need to hear anything more! But, alas! It is done. Come, Sam, and Frodo, if you like, and tell me all of what came to pass in that dreaded tunnel."

So, Frodo started telling of how, once I left, he and Sam came to the Stairs of Cirith Ungol, and how they mounted first the steep flight, and then the long, winding one; and how, even as they reached the last step, they beheld the tunnel and entered it. Then all became dark, blacker than any night, and they used what Frodo called the Phial of Galadriel to navigate through. And as Sam held up the glass of light, a huge beast in the likeness of a spider, both awful and awesome, and of a foul stench beyond reckoning, appeared in front of them. But as the creature, which was accustomed to the dark of its tunnel, gazed at the ever-brightening light, it cowered in fear, and retreated backwards into some unseen recess. Frodo and Sam continued then, quickly as possible so as to escape once more into the open air, however unfriendly the surrounding territories may be. As they came to the end of the tunnel, dense cords stretched form end to end of the only visible exit, blocking it. Frodo took up Sting, and it viciously cut them all down, like a hot knife through butter, till they were all but mere string, as the type with which a child plays. And Frodo, seeing the way was clear, gave cries of joy as he rushed forth from the tunnel, with Sam ahead of him.

"But then, a strange feeling overcame me. It felt as if something came from behind and struck me beneath my neck. I fell to the ground while blackness overtook me, and I knew no more." Frodo sighed as he ended his narration, looking over at Sam with a most expectant look in his eyes.

Sam continued the tale. "I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo, that I did not see it coming till it was too late. I turned round to see you behind me, and that most dreadful thing behind you. I tried to shout to you, but it seems that you didn't hear me, and it was too late. It had already bitten you. By the time I ran over, it had already bound you with its silk, hand and foot and everything else in between. So I took up the Lady's glass, which frightened the Beast a little but did not force it back. I brandished Sting against it, but even a slash to the underbelly did not daunt it. It took a stab to the creature's eye and the brightest light that the Glass would yield. Then at last it retreated. I didn't see it again.

"Then I rushed back to you, Master, and I freed your face of the spider's cords. I looked at you, and I thought you were dead, so I wept openly and stayed by your side a long time, wondering what to do. And then Tallah showed up." Sam broke off his part of the tale and nodded to me. And I told all there was to tell about my hesitation on Morgul road, and how I ultimately turned about with a repented heart. Then I spoke of how I came to and through the tunnel and joined Sam once again, and of everything that transpired after that, to the juncture when Frodo awoke. And Frodo, having heard all that I had to say, chuckled softly and reflectively to himself.

"Now that explains all. But above everything else, I enjoyed the account of your escape from those Orcs. I daresay that was mightily clever of you, Tallah." He lowered his voice a few tones: "Morgul rats, you call us?" And he laughed once more.

"Frodo," I addressed him, my face and voice reflecting all somberness of the impending subject, even if the latter trembled slightly.

He looked at me with the same sort of expression, and I found that, when we made mutual eye contact, the guilt of my former blunder rendered me speechless, though I had seemingly endless words I had desired to speak. A few moments it took for me to properly compose myself and say on as I wished. "As I have already expressed to Sam, I am utterly dismayed that I abandoned you. I do not know why I did it – I was afraid. It was a foolish act if ever there was one. I would ask you to forgive me, but in reality, I cannot expect it. But I have turned back to aid you, and will not so much as glance over my shoulder to face West towards my City till this quest is complete. I promise that much, and more if need be – whatever it takes to help you in any way I can. You have my word, as little as it may mean to you now." And I outstretched my hand towards him. He looked at it for a moment, sentiments of surprise obvious on his face; then he firmly clasped it and shook. It is possible that I imagined it, but I fathomed that something passed between us, perhaps a sense of understanding.

Amazingly, Frodo did not move to release my hand; rather, he placed his other hand over it. "Whether you expect it or no, I do forgive you, good Tallah. Yes, I say 'good' and you should not wonder. It was because of fear and misunderstanding that you left, and because of a good heart that you returned. Now the past is behind us, and as we say in the Shire, we may forgive and forget." Only as he finished speaking did he loose his hold on my hand.

"Words truly cannot express my gratitude, Frodo. But the misunderstanding of which you speak is entirely gone on my part. I believe I do now understand the better the ultimate goal of your mission, and even have I sworn oath to uphold it. We of Minas Tirith are people of our word. If I fail to fulfill what I have promised, I shall be punished, even to the point of death."

"Though for your hesitation on the Morgul Road, I cannot say I do not admire you, Tallah. I would not expect as much of you or Sam or anyone else to come to the fires to which I go, but both of my companions are quite insistent otherwise. So shall it be."

Then there was a silence, though a comfortable one, for each was at peace in mind. At last, I spoke though often I am disinclined to do so. "Let us talk, while we have the time and chance, of your journey to the point where I met you. I have a special curiosity for this Lórien that you mention, if I name it rightly."

Frodo shook his head. "The tale of our journey from start to Minas Tirith would fill pages and would take countless days to tell. Some other time, if we have extreme leisure, we will recount the whole to you. But if you would like, we may at least tell you of Lórien, the land in which we took refuge after Gandalf's fall in Moria." And, having said this, he kept silent and looked sorrowful for a moment. I recalled that this Gandalf was the one called Mithrandir, and that he had been a great friend of the Hobbits.

But Sam spoke up, though he had been mostly silent to this point, and his eyes brightened with some untold glee, despite Frodo's remark. "Lórien! It is really a fine land, a merry land, and at the same time, mighty and mysterious as the sea. Going there kind of makes you just forget all your troubles. I feel like I can't describe it to you, not well enough to do it justice in the least. It ought to be sung. When you're in that land, it seems like everything is part of a beautiful yet melancholy song, and you feel like you're _in_ the song, if you follow my meaning. And the Lady Galadriel is the finest part of that song. Galadriel! She is powerful and distant and mighty, yet filled with such an unrivaled kindness. But I can't truly describe her either, and I'm not one for making much song. You'd have to get Aragorn or old Mr. Bilbo to do that. Ah, Lórien!"

Sam sighed, stretching his tired limbs. His gaze became distant as if, even now, he were in that fine, far away land. He lied down, curling upon the rocky ground, and as though it were covered in tender grass and fair wildflowers, was sleeping soundly shortly thereafter. I turned to Frodo. The talk of Lórien had the same sort of tranquilizing effects on him; he sighed distantly and nodded off, still propped against a sharp boulder.

"Well, that shall decide it reasonably enough," I said to myself. "I shall have first watch tonight." And as I sat up, I wondered about the land of Lórien, and pictured in my mind what it ought to look like, though I was certain that my mental image of it was far less fair than the reality. I started to wish that, rather than roaming the wild Northern lands, I had sojourned sooner southwards and seen beautiful Lórien of which Sam and Frodo spoke so fondly. But in my mind I knew that, even if I had reached its borders, a poor wayfarer such as I had no place among High Elves of that secluded and mysterious territory.

Long hours passed as I sat wrapped in my musings, wondering what indeed Lórien was like, until Sam, who had been sleeping quite soundly, woke with a sudden start and rose to his full height.

"Bless me! Sam, you ninnyhammer," he exclaimed to himself. "I didn't intend to fall asleep at all, let alone for so long. Thought of Lórien does that to you."

"Do not worry, Samwise," I called out to him. "Faithfully and constantly I have kept first watch."

He sat back on the ground, less worried now that I had assured him. "That's fine. Many a thanks to you; I shall take the second watch." He paused momentarily, and then, slowly, he exchanged positions with me and took his post. Then he looked at Frodo, who was now curled on his side sleeping soundly as a babe, the epitome of a peaceful picture. "I love him," Sam mused aloud. "It would be cruel to wake him in this state, as he is. He needs rest enough so that he can go on tomorrow. It's starting to weigh him down, and he thinks I don't see it, but I do. It's such a burden to bear – such a burden."

I nodded my agreement. The fact that the Ring was a sore trial to him had not remained unknown to me; in actuality, the more we moved on, the more I began to note how he walked with bowed back, clutching the Ring, but visibly resisting voicing his pain aloud. As I looked at him, I came to a profound realization. "I love him as you do, Sam. I know he is suffering, even if I don't know how much. Long have I admired his longsuffering in bearing the Ring and successfully resisting its evil. I will do all that is within my power to help him. Wake me whenever you may tire, and I shall take third watch in Frodo's stead."

Sam apparently did not know how to react. He opened his mouth as if to speak, and realizing he was unsure of what would be best to say, turned immediately red as a ripe tomato in the face, still fumbling for words. "Well, that's awfully kind of you, really, magnificently kind. Besides the Lady Galadriel, and dear Rosie Cotton back home, I think you may be the kindest lass I have ever met, if you don't mind my sayin' so. I'll do that then. I'll wake you in a few hours, though not too few, I should hope."

I laughed merrily, joyful and relieved that my offer had gotten such a reaction out of Sam, though I did not in the least expect it and certainly could not have predicted it. I lied down among Mordor's inhospitable rocks, and thought the environment was far from conducive to sleep, I soon dozed off into a sound slumber, for I was much wearied by the long day's journey.


	8. 7: The Road to Mount Doom

Disclaimer: The most I own is 1 copy of each _Lord of the Rings_ book and 1 copy of each movie. Sam's speech about the _tales that really mattered_ is partially pulled from the book, as are the Orc's line and Frodo's declaration at the end of the chapter.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed for last chapter! Those really are a big encouragement. This chapter is very long, but in it lies the long-awaited resolution. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 7: _The Road to Mount Doom_

Sam roused me again while the night was old and had almost given way to day, or day as we would call it in brief, though there was no sign of sun or even light. Had I not been awoken, I may have thought that it was still late; I felt nearly as tired as I had the night before. Nevertheless, I bit my tongue and kept watch as I had promised, though it proved uneventful and lasted a scant few hours before Sam arose once more. He woke his Master, whose head had been resting peacefully in Sam's lap. Then the three of us ate a hurried breakfast, accompanied by what water we could spare, and we were on the road as quickly as possible.

"We are bearing North along the Eastern side of the Mountains," I told Frodo, who had not yet woken up at the moment when Sam and I decided our route. "We will continue this direction until your Mount Doom is due East, and then we will head as straight for it as conditions may allow. We may have to circumvent some Orcs along the way."

About this time we noticed that said Orcs, still somewhat scattered and a little below us, were moving in the same direction as we were. It was Sam who, after a space, first voiced his concerns. "D'you think they're following us? Have they caught us?"

I slowed down for a moment in order to survey the scene below me. "No. If they had spotted us, it would have been known. It is not after the manner of Orcs to be discreet. And, look! See how their eyes are fixed on the road ahead and not on us. Seems as if they go to amass at the Black Gate once more, to march off to war in the West. Still, I advise caution; it takes but one to sound the alarm. I hope only that we may slip past unnoticed."

Carefully and deliberately, we moved along the mountainside, and constantly I repeated my prayer that we remain unseen. Sam was the most optimistic of the threesome. "We must trust to luck. This ridge conceals us fine. Just let's keep moving, and if we're seen, well, we will ford that river if we come to it. And while we are speaking of rivers if we could only have a little water! But we must trust to luck in that, too."

For my part, after Sam said this, I began to realize that I was thirsty, and just how much I yearned for the sweet satisfaction of pure water. We had been conserving the water in the few skins that we had between us, which was surely wise, but it helped in adding to our increasing fatigue. As it seemed, there was no water to be had in these barren lands where nothing grew, and our skins had not been filled since we had reached the East bank of the River Anduin. My tongue was cleaving to my palette, and each of my steps was attained through the greatest exertion. I grew both tired and weary, and felt as if I myself were weighted down by a great weight, though I had slept soundly for the better part of the previous night. How much more weary could Frodo be feeling, he who did indeed carry a great burden and whose peaceful slumber might be tainted by some demonic images instigated by the Ring's evil?

A glance over my shoulder revealed that he was trudging along much more wearily than I, with eyes half closed and neck bowed low, so that he saw only the ground beneath. Sam had temporarily gone on ahead, for some reason yet unknown to me; perhaps he had seen something distant and was serving as a scout. Seeing this, I staggered to Frodo's side, placing a supportive arm round his shoulders. "Come on, Frodo." I said, and, though he looked in the direction of my face, I do not know whether he recognized me. "Sam is already ahead of us by a good deal, and I think he might have urgent news for us."

Frodo did not respond, but rather leaned against my shoulder for support, as one who is in a daze. Not a few steps had we progressed before we heard the voice of Sam calling frantically to us. Thinking that there was some dreadful terror that he encountered ahead, we quickened our pace, but when we reached Sam we saw that his face was full of wonder, not terror, and his voice was excited, but with joy and not with desperation. Still an even greater sound reached our ears, and as we turned to our left, agape, wonder found its way into our expressions as well. I hardly dared to believe that I gazed upon water, a small stream that poured thence from the rock above.

"Look, Master!" Sam was exclaiming. "Just when we thought we'd run out of luck, we find water! Well, our luck hasn't failed us yet."

We smiled more broadly than we had in days, and sat down gratefully at the foot of the steam, quickly drinking to our fill thought the water had an indescribably rancid taste. Once we'd had quite enough, we took the opportunity to fully replenish our water skins.

It was water, notwithstanding its impurities, and it nourished and revived our bodies, as well as it gave us a new hope. When Frodo rose anew, I remarked how much more energy there was in his step. He looked no longer timid and exhausted Hobbit, but resolute with some stamina left in his wearied bones, enough so that he could move and walk about on his own. Now not even his great burden had the potency to cause him to falter. "We shall see how long that lasts," I thought sadly, hoping for his sake that he endured longer in this ameliorated state than I supposed he might.

Thus we moved on, seemingly no nearer to our ultimate destination than we had been. The Orcs below us, too, kept marching on ahead, madly, and as if blindly focused in that one direction, toward one single purpose. Other tribes and new groups came from behind the primary one, merging haphazardly into one enormous host. Ever so cautiously we continued, periodically taking cover to preclude any potentially hazardous incidents, lest a pair of curious eyes wander in our direction. We assumed the air of Orcs charged with border patrol, performing as we ought to, like good servants of the Dark Tower. This simple guise, thanks to our good fortune, held out for long hours till what would have been the hour of twilight, were there a Sun to tell the hour in those dark lands. Our incredible luck in remaining concealed thus raised my spirits by a good deal. I, who was still the active guide, then looked over to my right, where the Mountain was fully visible, its flames starkly contrasting with the surrounding black. "Just a little farther North," I announced, "before we turn due East towards our impending doom, if I may be forgiven for bitter jest in my choice of word."

"I don't know East from North as you do," Sam said. "But any Hobbit with plain sense can see that it will be impossible to cut across that mob of Orcs. No need to blow on a trumpet during a game of hide-and-seek, as my Gaffer would say!"

"My dear Sam," I laughed. "With this Orc-gear, we shall blend in as well as blue fish in the sea. It will be best to move among the Orcs while they move; there is more of a chance that we may slip away unnoticed. This course of action would not prove fruitful were these Orcs still."

"But also, there will be a chance of us getting stuck in that sea of Orcs. Our purpose in this quest is to save our friends, not march out to war against them with the enemy," Sam said.

"Such a risk we have no choice but to take; if we continue in this direction, we shall find ourselves facing the Black Gate all the same. We must soon assume a different course."

"A fine mess we've landed ourselves in," Sam said, shaking his head. "But what do you think of it, Mr. Frodo?"

Simultaneously, Sam and I turned to Frodo, who had been silent to that point. Upon seeing him, I observed that he stood very still, clutching the Ring from the spot where it hung around his neck as he often did of late.

I think nothing of it Sam. And furthermore, I feel as if I cannot think at all with so empty a stomach, and I cannot decide anything." With a heaving sigh, he sunk onto the rocky ground.

"We've gone far enough today, and have eaten little," said Sam, taking his place by his Master's side; I followed suit. "Let us speak no more of East or North till after we've eaten."

Even after we had finished, Frodo was no more decisive about what to do concerning our predicament. He dithered uncertainly as he mused aloud, taking into consideration both Sam's ideas and mine. In the end, he only sighed heavily once again. "What can we do? We sit here, weary, and trapped between fire and foe. We have no place where we can safely turn. How then can we pick the lesser of these evils? I feel as if I can go no farther." And he bowed his head.

I merely sat where I was, uncertain of what to do or say, feeling quite useless as I gazed at Frodo. But in those moments I felt, or thought I felt, a sense of the reality, the weight of his burden, and I looked at him with pity in my eyes.

"Alas that our path is laid thus!" said I.

"There isn't aught we can do about that. Our path is before us, like in the old tales and songs, the ones that really mattered. Folk seem to have been landed in them, usually – their paths were just laid that way. And they were tough paths, not just trails to coast along on real easy like, with maybe a bump here or there. But if they'd turned back, we should never have known of their great tales. They would've been just like ordinary folk, nothin' to speak of. They sure had lots of chances to turn back, only they didn't, no matter how hard it was not to." Here he cast a deliberate glance in my direction, full of rebuke. Unable to withstand the guilt that it induced, I turned my neck downward and looked at the ground in shame.

"It is thanks to me that this is the way our path takes us; this is the route that I chose for us to follow. And follow it we must, lest we become cowards unworthy of this type of great tale. Though I fear that I have already become such a coward. And now I have added stupidity to cowardice in choosing an improper path for us to follow."

There was a slight pause, filled with melancholy thought. After a few moments, I looked up from the ground to see that Frodo's eyes were on me. "Unfitting as it may be," he said, "It is better than the only other alternative, which would have been to take the Orc-Road. Some time, have Sam tell you of a so-called 'shortcut' that I chose for us to take while we were yet in our own homeland. Then you will laugh at what you called your stupidity! But as for right now, look how the Orcs amass. We ought to wait for some form of chaos in the mob, for this is common among Orcs. Then we will approach the bewildered crowd and manage to slip away in the confusion, similar to what you and Sam did before I awoke. See! I am thinking clearly now."

So we continued and, ever so surreptitiously, and in small increments, approached the line of Orcs. We came nearly to the point of crossing it, and it seemed as though Frodo's plan would work without incident. But the Orcs were placed in a more orderly formation than we had anticipated, and because we were moving in a contrary direction, we became easy to spot. To our dread, one patrolling Orc came towards us and began scolding us hardly in the common tongue. "Traitors! Rebel scum! Where do you think you're going? You know your orders. Your kind was supposed to be at the Isenmouthe yesterday!" We heard a whip crack, and took the harsh blow with pain. Sam and I staggered, struggling to keep our balance, and I refrained from crying aloud, but Frodo, unable to bear his weight as well as endure pain provoked by the whip, would have fallen to the ground had Sam not been there to catch and support him. "Move on, you slime!" the Orc kept shouting to us as well as to the other mob, part of which had paused to cast curious glances at us.

We fell into formation in the dreadful line, Frodo leaning on Sam for support.

"It's such a weight, Sam," the former related. "I feel as if it is a task to even move, much less continue under the impatient prodding of the scourge." I longed more than ever to help Frodo then, but of what use could I be when he had so faithful and courageous a servant nearby, on whom he could lean in any circumstance? All I thought of to say was: "Move as fast as you can, and this devilish Orc will be less inclined to crack the whip." I succeeded only in making Frodo wince at the mention of the harsh weapon.

"Don't be so down, Master. I'm right here next to you," Sam assured his Master, and at once, he smiled weakly and regained some of the strength he needed to march forward.

And march we did – farther and farther forward we moved, till my mind became void of everything save the sound of my step. What remained of my will urged me forward, so that I would not have to endure the harsh crack of the scourge. All hopes of completing our mission almost completely strayed out of memory and I only longed to somehow escape the fate that awaited me: marching out of the Black Gate to meet my fellow city-men in war, armed with only a long knife that I knew not how to use. But our good fortune that had been present with us all throughout this cumbersome journey did not fail us entirely. Two or three other large groups of Orcs approached the larger mob from the South and East, and at this point, were haphazardly merging into one another. In the disarray, we saw an opening for escape.

Sam looked at Frodo, and then at me. He whispered his words so that the marching iron-clad Orcs around us failed to hear his soft suggestions of treachery over their own din. "Now for it! This is our best chance to get away where we need to go."

I nodded my consent as my spirits rose from their despairing state. My mind was again lucid, rather than absently brooding. The new hope also seemed to have this same effect on Frodo, and before we knew it, our trio had discreetly combated through the steady flow of Orcs making their way North, and we had the liberty at last of turning East as was necessary.

We continued until we were certain that we were out of sight and earshot of the dreadful creatures. Not long thereafter, we sank onto the ground in a state of utter exhaustion, for we had gone far that day even before we had marched long and hard; much had transpired, and it was well after dusk.

"Good luck at least that the dreadful Eye is turned towards his war in the West and not towards us," I said.

We started out quite slowly the following day. Sam and I arose feeling refreshed, but Frodo had not closed his eyes last night for a moment without seeing that formidable Eye of flame, gazing back at him without blinking. Now he came along wearily, the Ring's weight twice as heavy as it ever had been. Yet not a complaint did he utter; forbearingly he carried his burden as he resolutely moved forward, step by painful step. But at what was about midday by my estimations, his strength started to wane. At last, he ceased to walk, and exhaled deeply as he finally expressed his discomfort aloud.

"I cannot go on like this. This Ring is such a weight. I cannot carry it as well as wear all of this cumbersome Orc-gear. I shall have to cast it aside. I cannot go one step further, and the guise is no longer needed now." And with that, he cast way all of his armor, down to the mail shirt and once again donned the Lórien cloak. Sam and I did likewise with our own Orc-armor, though Sam still kept charge of Sting, and thus, we were able to walk a little faster though easier.

Days passed, many long, tiresome days, each as dull and arduous as the preceding. Our water supply again began to dwindle, as did our stores of provisions. In secret, Sam gave most of his share of food and water to his Master. Moved as I was by this simple generosity, I did not return to him the kindness of the favor; I was weary as well, and needed every bit of the sustaining energy that my portion of the food and water provided. I did, however, limit the share of _lembas_ allotted to me to one small bite. We had been saving the supply of wondrous Elven waybread for the last, most rigorous part of the journey, but, now that the mountain was in view, we thought it best to consume the rest of it for this last stage.

At long last, after so much toiling and despair, we reached the foot of the mountain, and its fires were all that filled our view. Silently I wondered what we would do, what we ought to do, now that we had reached it. The path that we currently followed wrapped around the North side of the mountain. Would we be able to find our way to our designated spot via the path? Or would we be required to ascend to its peak in order to make our way to the interior, to destroy this wretched Ring that only this fire could unmake?

A sense of indecision was present also in the faces of Frodo and Sam, but in the former, I noted also something akin to exhaustion. I paused in my step to observe; mere seconds later, he swayed and fell to the ground before I had time to anticipate and catch him. Sam, who was but a few steps ahead of Frodo, turned about, and rushed to his side. Frodo was at that point gasping for air. "I can carry this thing no further. I am exhausted. It is overpowering me."

I felt my eyes sting with hot tears of pity, but I remained silently in my place, knowing not what should be done. I knew it would be futile to offer to carry the Ring for him. Sam, however, thought of a feasible solution.

"It would do no good for me to carry the Ring for you, Mr. Frodo, though I would gladly do it. But it's your task, as you've said. Even if I can't carry it for you, I can carry you with it!"

"Samwise!" I exclaimed. "Do not oblige yourself to take on such a burden. Frodo has grown very slight throughout the journey, but you have as well. You'll have to take on Frodo's weight as well as the Ring's. It may, I fear, be too much for you. I am built slightly taller and stronger. Let me then take this task upon myself."

"No," Sam insisted firmly. "Mr. Frodo is my Master. It's me who ought to make sure that he don't get hurt. I will carry him up the mountain though it breaks my back."

"You have abundant courage, young Hobbit. Your loyalty to your Master is to be greatly admired. But for your own sake, I would ask you to let me take him."

Sam, however, was inexorable in this matter, and as he hoisted Frodo onto his back, I looked on him with the utmost admiration, and my desires to in any way aid this duo that I had come to love increased. As it was, I felt rather small and helpless as Sam thus carried Frodo up the sides of Mount Doom. At first, he did so with relative ease, but as hours progressed, and his body had time to grow tired from bearing the additional weight, his feet began to stumble. I insisted once more that he let me carry Frodo; once more, he refused, though still he faltered.

We followed the narrow, winding path up the steep sides of the mountain, wrapping around its northern edge so that, for a dreaded period, the Great Eye was in full view, though not on us. But shortly thereafter, we reached the end, the terrible heart of the fiery mountain, the end of our journeys. This place I would consider under any other circumstances the most wretched sight in Middle-earth, though at the moment I considered my eyes blessed that they should behold it. Soon hereafter, so I thought, I would be able to turn west, and behold again my City, for good or for evil.

Then we approached the Cracks of Doom, a mere hole as a speck in the vast wall of the mountainside. The path led into it and terminated abruptly on either side, forming a precarious promontory that dropped into the fiery sea of lava below.

"Sam," I heard Frodo say, "Let me down now. This is my own task, mine and no other's." Sam did as Frodo requested, and I stood back, still wishing that I could be of some help to Frodo, but I found consolation in the reassurance that all of his grief would soon be ended.

He walked to the very edge of the precipice, holding out the Ring as if to cast it away forever. He held it on level with his eyes and regarded it with a mixture of hatred and wonder, and something in his expression as he did so made him appear very lordly and powerful.

Turning then to us, he said, "I have come. But I do not choose now to do what I came to do. The Ring is mine!" And even as he resolutely moved to put it on his finger, Sam started to weep bitter tears of shock and anguish, trying to protest but perhaps thinking better than to reproach his Master. Contrarily, I was outraged. How could it be that Frodo, who had first convinced me of the necessity of this journey, and who had pledged to fulfill his mission or die trying, now refuted the very reason for which he came to this spot? I approached him in something akin to rage. Hot tears stung my eyes, and the steaming lava and smoke surrounding us were not their only cause.

"We have not journeyed through fire and shadow and ash in order for you to shirk your duty. And I will not allow you to do this!" My hand outstretched as I forcefully grabbed Frodo's right hand which still greedily clutched the Ring, but in the next moment, he seized the offending wrist, and I cried out in pain. I felt him drive me downwards, and I felt my head collide with some sort of hard rock. Though my eyes were close, I could feel my awareness slowly being blotted away, and I feebly attempted to cry out against the vice like grip about my neck. It became increasingly harder to breathe. Then, I had the sensation that I fell a long way, and after that, I was granted the relative bliss of knowing no more.


	9. 8: Awakening

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything having to do with _Lord of the Rings,_ except for exactly one copy of each movie and book. If I did own it, I would be flying first-class on a trip to Italy, not sitting in a computer chair writing fanfiction.

**A/N**: As usual, thanks to my reviewers. I am posting chapters 8 _and_ 9 together because this chapter makes sense only if you keep reading what comes after. Enjoy!

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Chapter 8: _Awakening_

When the wretched falling sensation had terminated, I was lost to the relatively peaceful oblivion of the surrounding blackness, and, though for a brief period I saw and knew nothing, I soon became aware of light. It was not the kind of overwhelming radiance that the Sun emits at midday, nor even that of a white, full moon and a host of stars; rather, it was the kind of light that gave little hint of surroundings. Few indeed would even have ventured to name it as 'light' at all. To me, compared to the blackness that had enveloped me, this new luminescence, slight as it may be, could be called as such.

Gradually, as my eyes adjusted and beheld this new place in which I stood, I began to see where I was, or rather to make suppositions about my location. Each time I looked in this direction or that, I would note something new that altered my perspective on this. The round door and quaint window behind me evoked an image of the Shire, to which I had never been but, having lived in Bree, of which I had heard a lot. A glance to my left allowed me to see a cluster of fair evergreens and what seemed in the pale moonlight to be very tall verdant grass. This image was surely reminiscent of fair Ithilien in Gondor. Surely, then, I must have been in my homeland, Bree, where grass and wood and Hobbit hole were as commonplace as fine rain on a spring day. I supposed as such, until, after a time I came to myself, and realization dawned on me that I could be in one of these places, nor any other in Middle-earth, for I was dead. Somehow, through intuition or memory or a blurred train of thought since forgotten, I knew that much. I was in some distant green country, far beyond the sea in the peaceful land of the deceased, of which Middle-earth was a mere shadow.

It was this realization that allowed me to be at peace with the reality of my death. Who among the wise and most speculative could have foreseen that there could be such comfort in and after death, and its most frightening moments less brief and no more horrid than a nightmare? And where would I rather be now besides here, in this serene land covered in fine mist like silver glass? on the Pelennor fields beside what once was my City, looking upon its heap of ruins with tear-streaked face? or in the Bree-land, place of my youth, where I had found no peace, and from where I traveled so many hundreds of leagues for the sole purpose of quitting the land? No, there was no place in Middle-earth that I would prefer to be.

I stood for along time, reflecting thus, when I heard rustling in the grass behind me. Though I did not expect to hear a sound in the still night, I felt neither startled nor afraid at hint of a newcomer. Slowly, I turned about, and a broad grin forced its way across my lips when I saw the moon cast its pale light on the fair face of Frodo. I cried out to him, and to me, he did likewise. We rushed towards each other in a mutual embrace.

I opened my mouth to question him, but he spoke first. "Long, far, and wide have I searched for you, dear Tallah. Tell me, what brings you to this place while the night is old?"

"I could ask the same of you. But I am almost certain I already know the answer. I am glad to see you here, for my part. But to be here, it must mean that you have passed away. Perhaps I ought to mourn for the sake of you and your loved ones. Perhaps too it signifies a failure of the quest, and such a noble quest it was!"

"How you speak in riddles! And your brow is hot to the touch. I believe you have taken ill with a fever."

"Preposterous! Have you not guessed that we have reached the utopia of the deceased? Or do you think that there is some equivalent of a fever in these realms?"

"All the more do I worry about you. We are not deceased. What leads you to believe as such?"

My blood ran cold then, but from shock, or horror, or a miserable combination of the two, I cannot tell. "No? Then, prey tell, what are we? I believe it is you who speaks strangely, for the last thing I recall is falling from the peak of Mt. Doom."

"Come! You did not fall from the peak. You but tumbled to the ground, and that must not be the last thing you remember. Long months have passed since. That came to pass spring of last year, and summer of this year is now old."

For the second time, I looked about me; for the first time, I felt startled. "Where on Middle-earth are we, then, if we are not dead as I have falsely supposed?"

"Why, we're in the Shire, of course! Right where we have been for these past months, in this serene land untroubled by care and grief, but unfortunately not by fever. I suggest that you seek a bed, and rest."

My brow furrowed, and the corner of my lips turned down, but for only a brief space. Soon as I had figured out what must have happened, I was smiling broadly, and a loud string of laughter burst forth from my mouth. We had returned soundly from the mountain, somehow, and had journeyed back to the Shire, all together; though I had no memory of it due to fever or relapse. I had been wanted along for some reason or another. That reason never revealed itself to me, but I counted it as a matter of little importance compared to the knowledge that I was in this peaceful land with Frodo and Sam, whom I had come to love.

"So it was! You are right, of course. Do not worry over me. My lack of memory must be because of some effect of fever. But I am quite well now, aside from the fear that _this_ is the part in my imagination, transitory as a spring shower, or, say, a passing dream."

"You are not dreaming, Tallah; but, I think you ought to be asleep at the very least. Come on." And putting his arm about my shoulders, he guided me towards the Hobbit hole that I'd seen behind me. I looked back once more over the woods, the grass, the silver mist that covered the ground, and the placid moon. 'No,' I said to myself, 'there is nowhere in Middle-earth that I'd rather be than right here.'

And, just as I continued looking back, hoping that those fair elements were not some device of hyperactive mind or fever-induced hallucination, they began to melt away, converging into one another, coalescing into nebulous clouds of color. And once again, I felt as if I were falling.


	10. 9: Honor in Gondor

Chapter 9: _Honor in Gondor_

The falling sensation jerked me out of what was apparently a sleeplike state, and, as my senses gradually returned to me, I realized that I was not falling, but rather rising. I had jolted upwards from what perhaps had been a collapse. But what met my eyes upon awakening only augmented my confusion. I did not see the cozy walls of a Hobbit hole, nor a wooden floor and round windows. Instead, I was lying on a comfortable bed, looking overhead at an azure sky. I sat up and looked around me, and once again thought the surrounding scene was reminiscent of the lands of Ithilien, the pristine Field of Cormallen, and I began to wonder whether the whole previous journey was a dream, or whether all a reality, or a strange mixture of both. Or was it that I had imagined Frodo standing beside me a mere few hours ago, and I was indeed in the lands of the deceased as I had supposed?

In attempt to answer these questions, I continued observing the extent of my surroundings, and at length, my eyes fell upon an old man, seated to my immediate left. I studied the features of the aged face closely, knowing that I recognized it from a previous date, even if I could not pinpoint it immediately. A long time I gazed at his features; when I thought I had identified him correctly, I stared in even more wonder, and thinking I could glean information from him, I spoke, though I hardly felt worthy to address a one so illustrious.

"Are you not Mithrandir, whom my people call the Gray Pilgrim? Then I must indeed be in the lands of the deceased, for I recall of how Frodo and Sam told me of how you fell in Moria."

"I am he; though now, instead of the Gray Pilgrim, I am known as Gandalf the White." It struck me then why I had not placed him more readily; there was nothing gray about him, and he was not as I had remembered. His long, straight hair, his robes, his staff, even his shoes were all white as the snow on the peak of Mount Mindolluin. "I have traveled the road of death, but I dwell in the lands of the living now. I have been called here to remain until I shall finish my work, the fruits of which shall soon be complete.

"Now you need not give an introduction on your part, for Faramir spoke of you when I arrived at Minas Tirith not a day after you departed. And Frodo has been awake this very hour and also said his share concerning you."

As I thought of Frodo, suddenly my eyes drifted to my right, and I was overjoyed to behold him there, asleep on his own bed, which was at my side. My first impulse was to rush to wake him, in order that he may tell me all that had transpired before our arrival to this place, whatever it may be, for only he and Sam were with me immediately after I lost conscious thought. But I resisted the desire. Elated as I was at the sight of him, I did not so much as breathe his name; I did not want to wake him in an untimely manner. Instead, I smiled and turned in his direction, waiting for him to awaken in his own due time.

Not a half of one hour passed before Frodo's eyes fluttered open, and, upon seeing me, his countenance brightened.

"Tallah! I was dreading the possibility that you might not wake again. But you are here, and for that my heart is glad."

"Likewise, I am glad to see you. But where are we? And what has transpired while I slept?"

"Much, and most of it I do not have the heart to tell you now, though you ought to know. When I gather the courage, you will hear all. I will withhold nothing. For now, I will say that we stand in the Field of Cormallen, in Gondor, land of your City."

I spent a few moments in silence, wondering what had become of Minas Tirith, my home. But there was a question still nearer to my heart that I much desired to ask. "What has become of our quest?"

"The quest is finished. The burden is gone, for the most part, though I still can feel it somewhat." And he clutched his left shoulder.

I shuddered. I had not even fathomed the possibility that, even after the Ring was destroyed, Frodo might still feel in part the burden that so long he bore. I had always assumed that, once the burden vanished from the face of the earth, then so would Frodo's pain, but it was not so, and once again, I began to feel as if I really never did understand. Then my heart went out to him, as did my hand, in an attempted gesture of consolation. But shakily I moved to withdraw it, for I thought that perhaps he did not want the comfort of one who had deserted him. To my surprise, he gingerly took my outstretched hand in his, and held it up as if inspecting it. Once he drew it to my attention thus, I noticed for the first time how marred it was: bent and limp at the wrist and covered halfway up the forearm with a layer of purple, which was incongruous with my relatively fair skin.

"This I did to you, Tallah, though now I repent with bitter tears. But maybe you do not remember it."

I looked into his face and saw that his eyes were moist. I was still in a disoriented state of mind, and rather than attempt to console him again, I asked, "But how was this? You say rightly; I do not remember."

Frodo sighed deeply and looked towards the ground, his expressive blue eyes filled with melancholy. "I hope that you will forgive the deed that I tell. Perhaps you remember that, in a moment of madness, I refused to perform my deed. You rightly moved to grab the Ring, but I viewed it as treachery. So, I grabbed your wrist and twisted it. It drove you to the ground. When you became oblivious, I placed my free hand around your neck while the other still clutched the Ring.

"Soon after you went limp, Sam rushed to my side, and he pulled me away. My hand flew to my sword, but then I thought of using the Ring as a weapon. In my hesitation, Sam reasoned with me.

"'See here, Mr. Frodo! Tallah's right,' he said, and hearing his voice brought me back to reason. 'You came all this way to destroy the Ring, and now you say you don't want to, but you've got to! Think what might happen otherwise to the Shire, and to everyone we know.'

"Slowly, as if I were in a daze, I returned to my senses. With a great exertion of will, I cast the Ring away forever. But it was not by my own devices that I did this. Were it not for your help and Sam's, I should have failed to fulfill my task."

"Do not speak thus. Sam was a fine companion, and ever loyal. But you ought not to speak so highly of me. As for my injury," I said, holding up my hand, "I have reaped what I sowed. I may pardon you even as you have pardoned me for my wrongdoing against you."

"I am forever grateful to you, kind Tallah. And to you, Sam." Frodo turned around, and for the first time, I noticed that Sam had since arisen and was standing a distance away, behind me. "Dear Sam! Forgive me. I have done much wrong against you."

Sam stepped forward. "There's nothing to forgive, Mr. Frodo. No other man or wizard could've carried that Ring as far as you did without falling to it. That's why Tallah and I were along, and it's a good thing she returned to show her quality." He looked at me. "Really, you did; you showed your very finest at the end. I don't know how it might have gone otherwise, and maybe I wouldn't like to know. At times it's good knowing that you can't change what's already passed."

Frodo spoke then, and his voice was full with richness in tone, but also with sadness and remorse. "You say this because you have a spotless conscience, Sam But could I say the same for my part? I wish that I had not at the end succumbed to the evils of the Ring. Yet it was so, and for this, I feel like I have failed in my mission."

"Do not say as such," I said, and I felt my voice tremble. "I am not without regrets any more than you are. But it was you who has achieved what none other could have. You carried this Thing the whole way into the enemy's very kingdom without faltering. I would that I could say that I had done so great a deed."

"Yet in a sense you have," said Frodo. "Were it not for you and Sam, I would not have even made it to the enemy's kingdom. I would have laid on the pass of Cirith Ungol and been captured by Orcs. You, Tallah, are deserving of no less honor than Sam and me."

Several protests formed in my mind concerning my error on the Morgul road, and how it lessened my worthiness greatly, but no coherent words ever formed on my lips. The Wizard at that moment walked over to where our trio stood. I stared up at him, agape, for though his manners were mild, he was somehow terrible to behold. He towered over us as a tree lords its lofty height over an ant, his garments of pure white gave him a celestial appearance, and he seemed to shine with a soft light. When he spoke, his voice was like clear music, ringing out so majestically that it could have put the voice of a King to shame.

"And honored you will be, all three of you, for the people of Gondor are overwhelmed with joy and gratitude, and indeed each of you played an equally essential role in the completion of the quest: the Ring-bearer, the servant, and the guide."

So it was that we were honored on the Field of Cormallen, in which we had lied, even that very day; citizens looked upon us with glee and shouted great praise. And as I listened, I noted that they cried something concerning _i pheriannath_. Having lived in Minas Tirith, I had some knowledge of the Elvish tongue and knew that this meant _the Halflings._ I knew, therefore, that I was being mistaken for a Hobbit, for I looked more akin to one of their kind than a mortal woman.

Amidst all the shouting, Frodo and Sam recognized one they knew, seated upon a great chair like a throne, above which flew a great black standard bearing a white, flowering tree and seven seeing-stones, in the likeness of gems white as stars. He sat proudly and held his head high, yet his eyes shined with a bright light, and he looked very kingly indeed. Clumsily, I advanced a few steps towards him as they did, unsure of what to say. But ere I had a chance to speak, he addressed me.

"Who is this one that stands so close to the Ring-bearer? Is it not the faithful one who guided him and Sam to the very Mountain of Doom?" He looked at me intensely as he spoke, and I trembled with remorse, for I knew that I was being awarded far more honor than I merited.

"It is expected of a subject to do her Lord's will," said I. "This I have done, and no more, but in all likelihood, less."

"Do not speak thus; it is but a mark of humility! Frodo has told me of your last great deed while I tended you on your sickbed; for this, my heart is full of joy to find you in good health."

"Yet no honor that you extend to me do I keep for myself. Instead, I kneel before King Elessar." This name I had heard rumored in Minas Tirith, even ere he came, and who else could this man be who looked so gentle but lordly, and who sat on the throne under the standard of Gondor?

Aside from this event, I have little memory of the ceremony, and even as it happened, I was only half-conscious at best of all that was unfolding before me. I stood as if in a stupor, listening with one ear to the acclamations being sung and shouted, and thinking in my mind that such praise was not meant for me, for I was not worthy, but rather solely for the ears of Frodo and Sam. That night, I could not bring myself to rest; I tossed and turned, and the little sleep that I did get was haunted by thoughts of unease.

We stayed long on the Field of Cormallen, and there was much joy and merrymaking. I was also presented to Frodo's cousins, and Legolas and Gimli, who had been part of the Fellowship of the Ring. And they told me all there was to tell about their quest and their adventures together as well as apart. In exchange, we told our tale of how the Ring was destroyed, and of how I came to guide Frodo and Sam through the Nameless Land.


	11. 10: In Minas Tirith

Disclaimer: I don't own and never will own the rights to anything _Lord of the Rings._ Crying shame.

A/N: We're approaching the end here (as logic would suggest). Thanks to my lone reviewer for last chapter, whose flattering compliments keep me going. I hope everyone enjoys.

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Chapter 10: _In Minas Tirith_

At length, our company – Captains of the West and the Fellowship – knew that it must depart for Minas Tirith, for it had work there. On the first morning of May, ere the sun cast her first light over the eastern horizon, we were roused to depart to the City. Hundreds of different emotions, as it seemed, coursed through my mind at the thought of retuning home. I was elated, for one, to hear that my City still stood, and the warmest thoughts entered my mind as I anticipated retuning to the home I loved best. Yet, what would I find there upon arrival? Would sights of desolation and ruin greet my eyes, and how many homes and halls and towers would I find devastated?

Perhaps these worries that I felt in the very pit of my stomach were in actuality premonitions yet to be seen. As we neared the City, of which I had such fair memories, I saw that the very outer gates were in utter ruin, and upon beholding their splintered fragments, I wept openly. The great doors to the first gate we also found shattered.

It was here that Lord Faramir encountered us, and Elessar was crowned the formal Lord of the City; once again, Gondor had a King. For this reason I rejoiced in my heart, as I eagerly awaited the prospect of Minas Tirith being restored to its former glory.

Now Faramir was no longer my Lord, but rather King Elessar was, for the former Steward abdicated his ruling office upon arrival of the King. But he caught sight of me a last time soon after the coronation, and broad was his smile when he beheld me.

"I see you have returned triumphantly from the mission which you were assigned; though certainly if your trio had failed, we would not have had to await tidings of it. Yet, you have faithfully guided two Halflings through the most treacherous land in this Middle-earth, even as I knew you would, despite your past few demonstrations of stubbornness."

"Alas!" I cried. "I wish that I had been as faithful as you have alleged." And through gasps of regret, I recounted my hesitation, fleeing, and repentance on the Morgul Road, even to the one whom I had formerly served.

"So it passes at times. The greatest bouts of courage spring forth from the greatest bouts of fear. You repented of your wrongdoing and more than compensated by leading Frodo into the very heart of Orodruin itself. Yes, I have heard of your deeds. They, as well as Frodo's deeds, have been rumored far and wide within the City."

These words had good effect on me, and I departed with a somewhat lighter heart as we rode into the City. When we reached the third level, the company stopped in front of my own dwelling and tarried briefly to see me off. My state of relative ease soon proved to be transitory; it was replaced by a sense of horror when I saw that not even my own home had been spared from damage. A boulder had sailed through the portal, shattering the door and spreading its fragments abroad as seeds dispersed by wind. The doorway was now partially enlarged and its edges crude. Another offending stone had smitten the house above and crashed through my roof, and was actually lodged in the floor of my bedroom.

Quite finished with the inspection of my ruined abode, I exited and found that Frodo, Sam, and Gandalf still stood waiting; perhaps they had surveyed the damage as I had and had anticipated that I would emerge. I could look none of them in the face without fresh tears springing to my eyes.

"You may take leave of me," I informed them. "I am in mourning for Minas Tirith that once was so fair to my eyes, which had before that beheld no beauty. I remember first looking upon the proud towers white as ivory while they were yet undisturbed by the havoc of the enemy. I long for the day that it is fully restored, if I shall live to see it. But perhaps at least I might survive to see my own house renewed."

"I hope for your sake that good fortunes might provide for you that privilege," Gandalf spoke. "In the meantime, why will you not appeal to your King? Surely he would provide for you a temporary dwelling, even as he will do for Frodo and Sam, as a token of his gratitude."

Loth was I to make this request of my Lord, for I felt unworthy of the right to demand anything. Surely, Elessar would have deemed me worthy and thereby granted my request. But he knew only of my 'last great deed' and not my previous error, and surely, the latter would suffice to count me as shameful. I could not continue having all of my fellow city-men and King thinking that I was so honorable. So I appealed to King Elessar, not omitting my full confession of my transgression, so as to appease my conscience if only in the slightest. Gracious was the King when he saw me and heard my entire tale. He was moved to show me more compassion than I merited, even enough to offer me a dwelling in the his very guest halls, in the same place as Frodo and Sam.

The entire fellowship remained long in Minas Tirith, under request of the King, who was awaiting a sort of monumental day and wanted that his friends witness the event. When he was asked eagerly concerning this special day, he took to secrecy, and it was left for all to await.

In the meantime, I saw little of any members of the Fellowship. Frodo took to his bed often and said little to anyone save for Sam. But one day he was strolling about the city, and he caught sight of me while I was out of doors, deep in a pensive state.

"Tallah! Hello. I did not expect that I would find you here."

I started; so deep was I in the realms of thought that I had seen no sign of him, though he was close to me. But great was my joy when I beheld the face of the one who had woken me out of my reverie. I was just as surprised to note that, on this particular occasion, he was unaccompanied.

"Why Frodo! No more did I foresee this chance meeting. But what brings you here?"

"Leisure, and a desire to escape the confines of the bed. I have just started to walk about."

"Take pleasure in it! I am certain that you shall. This is the perfect season to enjoy the City and the gardens, and the majesty of Mindolluin to the South."

"Still more would I enjoy the company of one who knows the City and its gardens best." He extended a hand to me, and I took it and rose, smiling.

"Though it be twenty years before I desist, I shall not tire of being your guide."

To this, I received no answer save a soft smile from Frodo, but this was not the effect of merriment; rather, it was a sad sort of smile issued in the place of words, and as I looked at his silent face and sad eyes, my joy grew dim. So we walked on in an utter silence that was uncomfortable for both of us, and I longed to interrupt it with an inquiry as to why he had responded thus. But I refrained from the temptation for fear that I might somehow unknowingly offend my friend, or encroach upon his privacy. Then silence hovered over us, becoming increasingly severe as it proceeded.

Soon enough, we reached the gardens of the Courtyard of Stone, and our silence transformed into one of wonder. I blessed the moment when Frodo spoke.

"Who might have guessed that such beauty could exist here? I might have taken these gardens as a vision of my homeland. But tell me how you know of this place? It is isolated by the highest levels of the City, which are reserved for the noble."

"Have you not noted that I was once in the service of Captain Faramir? It is not so anymore, and it was not always so.

"When I came to this City, I much desired to dwell herein. This, however, caused a ripple of indignation among the Big People, and the disturbance reached even the ears of the Seward Denethor. He called me before him and looked on me with a sense of scorn. Yet, he saw it as an occasion to make us of me.

'If you desire above all else to dwell in this City, then you must work to render a great service to it. In doing so, you will prove your worth to its citizens.'

"He then inquired about my skills, to place my area of service. I then related to him my wanderings in the wilderness.

'I am not learned in knowledge bestowed by books. Perhaps you consider this equal to being completely incompetent. But are books the only medium for obtaining knowledge? I have wandered twenty and five years in the lands of this Middle Earth and several roaming throughout Gondor alone. Does that not make me learned, in some fashion, about the lands around me?'

"Then Denethor, though still he looked at me with contempt, said: 'You shall serve the Steward of Gondor with this knowledge. You shall serve as a scout for our army, seeing as you have more precise wisdom about distant lands than even a map can show. Undoubtedly, you have wisdom concerning good high grounds, and you must also know how to stealthily spy upon an amassing enemy. You shall also serve as a messenger as our men are otherwise engaged.'

"This was an order, and my duty. Yet, even if I had a choice, I would not have done otherwise. To me, it was a small duty, not even worthy of being named a sacrifice, if only it would allow me to live in this fair place.

"Several years passed as I scouted Gondor's borders, and I got along happily enough, though there was no friendship between the Steward and me. But after a period, his arrogance went to his head and he paid little heed to my reports. A great fire was ever present in his eyes, and his air turned to that of a madman. And though often I would say to him that the forces of Morgul amassed on Mordor's Western border, still he refused to engage his men there. And then, alas I erred. The incident on Morgul Road was not near the first time I had done wrong in my life. I spoke out against Lord Denethor.

'Ever has Minas Morgul been at war with our City, and now Orcs amass anew near its borders. Will you not send men there while they still gather force?'

"And the wrath of Denethor burned against me, and his eyes seemed to grow even hotter with flame, and he said:

'Who is the defender of this City? And to whom has the fate of this land's people been entrusted? To Tallah Underhill, who arrived hither as a nomadic refugee, poor and destitute, or to Denethor son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor?'

"To this I could give no answer, and none was needed. But I was no less stubborn. I would not work in his service if he discredited me in such a way. My obstinacy was as grievous a fault as Denethor's pride. Very nearly did he dishonorably discharge me from his service and the City. He would have done so if Faramir had not had compassion upon me. He moved to persuade his father to allow me to serve directly under him. This request did not please Denethor, but after some pleading, he relented in my favor. And because of this, Faramir found a loyal servant in me. Such is my tale; and together with its previous counterpart, you now know it in full."

"I know you have mourned your faults, and above all, your obstinacy. And yet I shudder to think what would have come to pass if you had not been so stubborn in Mount Doom." Indeed the next moment, I saw a shudder course throughout his body, and I looked at him with much pity in my eyes.

"Do not think of your past burden. It is over! That ought to be a glorious thought."

"Yes, it is no more. For that I am grateful at least." He turned from me, and by the sad intonation in his voice, I detected that he kept silent about some aspect of his former burden. There was nothing that I wanted more in those moments than to reach out and console him. What could be troubling him? I could not fathom it, and I became lost in the realms of supposition as I searched for the answer, but to no avail.

"Today is not a day to mourn; rather, let us rejoice. A mere few weeks ago, we have all begun life anew, and we shall live long in peace and prosperity."

Once again, Frodo glanced at me with a sad look in his eyes, and still I tried to guess at what all of this meant.

The Fellowship lingered yet in my City, though I saw none of its members, until at last the King's long-awaited day arrived. It was midyear's day, and a dozen or so High Elves arrived from Rivendell and Lothlórien, among whom was Elessar's bride, Arwen Undómiel, evenstar of her people and fairest of them all. And all rejoiced, and Elessar and Arwen were wed even on that very day.

Then I knew that the time was at hand for the Fellowship to depart, and I wept when I thought that I would never see any of them again, especially those whom I had grown to love most. But before they departed, Frodo called me to visit him, and my spirits rose when I listened to his words.

"As you know, we will depart soon. But this shall not be tour last meeting. I do not want it so. You have become almost as dear to me as those whom I have loved for years. Save for you, I could not have done my task." Here he paused to clutch a pendant, which I had not before noted, that hung around his neck. It was an intricate piece, crafted seemingly with the delicacy of the Elves. From it, he seemed to draw a certain sense of comfort, stamina to continue, and I wondered at the meaning of this, but did not inquire about it. "I would feel incomplete if we parted finally here, and I hope that you will visit me often as I dwell in the Shire."

How was I to respond to such a flattering plea that was so tenderly made by one I loved? Yet, at the same time, how could I so rashly arise and walk away from Minas Tirith, for the sake of which I braved, fire, ash, and the most treacherous territory in Middle-earth? At once, I felt as if I were being torn in two, my love for Frodo tugging one way, and my love for the City in the other.

"Minas Tirith lies so many thousands of leagues from your homeland. In order for me to do as you wish, I would be obligated to quit the City permanently. But do not despair; I am not refusing. I love you, Frodo, just as you have loved me, and perhaps to a greater extent. Were I asked now to leave this place for any other reason, I would utterly refuse. Yet, for your sake, I will consider accompanying you on your journey homewards.

"For so many years I have dwelt here and have had a heart of stone. But I feel now that it has melted, for sake of those that I now love."

"I am glad that you have learned to love, dear Tallah. You are not obligated to accompany me back to the Shire, though I would greatly desire it."

"I do not think it would do well for me to live in the Shire itself, or even to step foot in it. There is an ordinance that Big People are never to pass into its borders, and I am half-human. But I shall come to live close to it, if I so decide. Perhaps I will even choose to inhabit Bree, the land of my birth, though in that land I never found joy."


	12. 11: Breaking of the Fellowship

**Disclaimer**: Some things never change. I still don't own anything.

**Author's** **Note**: For those few who are reading, we're almost at the end. Just two more chapters after this one, and then you can tell me how much the whole thing sucked. ;)

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Chapter 11: _The Breaking of the Fellowship_

One week before the fixed date of the Fellowship's departure, I went into the presence of the King; though my decision was made, I was still troubled. I explained to him Frodo's plea as I knelt before him.

"I would comply with his wish, though to do so I must quit the City. But know that is not for contempt of this land that I depart. With your leave, my Lord, I wish accompany him to the Shire, though I shall settle in Bree. If there is some other reason why I must stay and serve the City instead, then so be it."

"No," the King replied. "If you have resolved so strongly to accompany the Ring-bearer to his homeland, then I grant you this wish. Not because I think of you as incapable of rendering service to this land, for I have heard of your service to Denethor the Steward. Yet so great a favor have you performed for this City and all of Middle-earth, that I have not the authority to deny your simple supplications."

So, we departed on our fixed date, and our company was far larger than I had surmised. All of the Fellowship, including the King, rode out from Minas Tirith, and Faramir as well; the Lords of Rivendell and Lothlórien, and the Rohirrim, the funeral escort to the late King Théoden. As we journeyed, little by little, smaller groups took leave of the large one, till at last there was no large group left. With me, there was only Gandalf and the four Hobbits.

Long we had traveled through mountain and valley, over river and stream, and so we came to rest a while in Rivendell. Lofty scenes of woods and waterfalls were copious here in the home of the Elves, and even from my chamber window, I could see a clear green wood. How different this was, I remarked, from my dear home in Minas Tirith, where once could see carved white stone each and every way one looked, save for Mindolluin's majesty to the South and the Pelennor fields to the North. In noting these differences, I thought constantly of my home and became often melancholy, taking often to my bed but not closing my eyes in rest.

It was on one such evening, after the Sun had ceased to illuminate my chamber from my West-facing window, that I stood out of doors on the common balcony, feeling as if I would not be able to get a moment of repose. Quite suddenly, I heard movements behind me that turned my thoughts away from my introspection. Startled, I turned swiftly around and was overjoyed to see that both Frodo and Sam stood there. I smiled broadly as the two approached; the former was the first to address me.

"Tallah! What is the meaning of your distress? It seems of late that you do not close an eye in repose."

"You guess rightly," I sighed. "Still I think of Minas Tirith. I even partly rue my decision to leave it. It may have seemed at first a hostile place, yet gradually its citizens learned to love me as I earned their respect. Never before had I felt so accepted. And now all that remains of my life there are memories, and even those fade. It is hard to picture its stone walls among these trees and flowers that surround us."

Frodo studied me a moment, and, upon deciding that he had no word of consolation to offer, kept silent, and bent his head towards the earth. But Sam, who had always been best at looking at the good in things, spoke promptly

"Maybe you'll go back someday, when good old Strider is still King. And you'll sure be welcomed back, with a hero's welcome most likely. In the meantime, you'll be close to Mr. Frodo, and me, and the Shire."

"Dear Sam," I said. "For that very reason I left my City; both of you are dearer to me than ever anyone has been. You are right. Instead of being melancholy, I ought to smile at hope of the future."

For this, I was in higher spirits when we set out Westward from Rivendell. But it did not escape my notice that Frodo felt a certain pain, and I could but wish that I had not hurt him in some way by expressing how much I missed my old home. I tried to speak to him, but it was as if he did not hear me; for an uneasy length, I felt as if I had lost my dearest friend. But as time progressed, I saw that he hung back and spoke only briefly to Gandalf. It was not only I whom he shunned. Sam, as of habit, stayed close to his master, who at this point seemed ill, and the occasion did not arise for me to ask him what ailed him ere the next day, which dawned bright and clear. By then, Frodo had retuned to himself, and beamed and laughed as though he had never before known illness. Loth was I to ask him as to the cause of his reticence the previous day, for I did not want to banish that lovely smile from his face. Yet, as he and I were riding side by side and, as silence fell between us, curiosity overcame my good sense, and then I did not see it fit to withhold my questions longer.

"I noticed that you were downhearted yesterday, and hesitant to speak. What ailed you? Are you entirely better now?"

Frodo frowned once again, as he had done the previous day, and immediately I wished that I had not so foolishly and impulsively spoken. But it had already passed, and he responded, as I had not fully expected him to.

"A year ago from yesterday, I was stabbed on Weathertop by a Morgul blade." He rubbed his left shoulder. "I am injured by knife and sting, and I know I shall never fully heal. I fear that I shall not find rest on this Middle-earth." He took to silence once again, and moved to finger the necklace that still hung around his neck. But at this juncture, I refrained from questions.

And still, we proceeded towards Bree, at a leisurely pace, as there was no urgent matter pressing our time. Sam and Frodo and I spoke often, even if our speech was mere idle talk, for we knew that our time of departure was close at hand. Though my words were many, I chose them with caution and did not give a single thought to any subject that might cause Frodo to frown. To my delight, he did not show one sign of despair until Weathertop came into our sight. This, he said, he would evade, and he would be all the merrier as soon as it was hidden beneath the horizon. Thus, we walked toward it and past without cease. Once the foreboding hill was behind us and we walked no more in its shadow, he was content, and held his head high as we rode.

My heart became heavier as we neared the town of Bree, and it was not only because I would soon be parted with the dear Hobbits. We reached the interior of the Bree-land, and old memories surged to the forefront of my mind as I remarked how bleak the land looked, and gloomier still as it was approaching winter and nightfall. I shuddered as I rode through and proceeded increasingly slower. This was the Bree I remembered, in all respects, save for that now it appeared to me twice as cheerless as ever before.

It was Frodo who took note of my distress first. He brought his pony to the back of the line, where I was, and continued riding alongside me. "Why do you frown? Is it because we shall so soon be parted? Do not worry. You and I will meet again, many times as I hope."

I looked at him and smiled gratefully. Strangely, it was as he said his words that I realized just how much I would miss his company, his gentle words, and his merry laugh. "I hope it as much as you do, Frodo. But not only thoughts of our parting sadden my spirits now. This land is bleaker, far bleaker than my memory of it. How much has changed in five and thirty years since I last saw this place!"

Frodo moved his pony closer to mine and reached out to console me momentarily. "All the more do I hope that you visit the Shire often. I shall send you invitations every chance I get." And as he said this, I became calmer.

The town of Bree was bleaker still, and I wondered that it was possible. Not a soul was on the streets, and I had seen them before when they were crowded even at the most unearthly hours of the night. Hardly did the gatekeeper permit us passage into the town; there had been news of killings in Staddle, most notably, killings of Hobbits. As this reached my ears, I became filled with alarm, and briefly I asked myself why I had not remained behind the safety of stone walls governed by a peaceful King. And I fell into a state of unease. What did the trouble in this region signify? Why was the town as good as deserted? Even the _Prancing Pony_, which I remembered as being the most popular inn in town, was vacant save for a mere handful of guests. And though I stayed the night within the comfortable walls of the inn, yet I did not close an eye in sleep, but rather paced about the room in a state of incurable anxiety.

But the next morning, the inn was alive with business again. Apparently, news had gotten out that the Ring-bearer had arrived to the humble town of Bree, and its inhabitants' curiosity overcame their fears. Still, I was no less uneasy until Gandalf took me aside to speak to me.

"Have courage, young one. Do not let your mind be troubled. The unease in this region shall be short-lived. It is caused by mere petty mischief, the type at which one who has braved the fires of the Enemy's land can afford to laugh. Perhaps it has crossed your mind to visit with Frodo in the Shire now, but I am afraid that land will be no refuge. Mischief of the same type is at work there, and its forces must first be banished from the land before you can visit it and look upon it in its natural, fair state."

"I will take your counsel, most venerable Gandalf," I said, inclining my head to him. "One can not travel alongside you for more than one week and not know better than to accept your wise words as truth."

Those words, however, were far easier to heed than to accept. I wept as the Hobbits prepared to take leave of me, but in secret; I did not want Frodo or Sam to see the tears in my eyes. Yet, as I saw them off, I felt a stronger grief than I had ever known. The only hope I had, the only fond prospect I had for the future, was that I would soon visit the Shire. And that was to be at least a few months, judging from Gandalf's words. I stared into the distance, watching the five ride off. Frodo looked back briefly and smiled at me, and I promptly reciprocated it, though inwardly I wept. Even afterwards, I gazed at the receding figures, long after they had vanished into the horizon.


	13. 12: Aftermath

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not even a good enough brain to write absolutely amazing fanfiction.

A/N: We're down to the last two chapters! I've decided to post both. Please review!

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Chapter 12: _Aftermath_

Anxiously, I awaited contact from Frodo as I dwelt in my new residence in Staddle. A few months passed, as I expected, but winter turned into spring, and spring gave birth to summer, and still I received nothing, not so much as a short letter. It was then that I started to become troubled. Was Frodo safe and at peace? Or had something happened to him on the journey home? Or, far less severe, yet far more difficult for me to fathom, had he arrived home only to forget that his friend dwelt in Bree? Had he forgotten to write, or did he not care to send me his tidings from the Shire? I thought about paying a visit to him in order to discover what might have happened to him, but if indeed he was still in life, I did not know where to find him, and I did not want that he view me as an intrusion. So instead, I waited uneasily.

The more time passed, the more restless I became to hear from the dear Hobbit. And, in the second week of September, just as I had nearly given up hope of seeing or even hearing from him, a letter arrived. My hands trembled as I opened it, for, though this was a good sign, somehow I still feared the worst. I began to read:

_Dearest Tallah:_

_I regret that it has taken so long to write to you, yet at the latter portion of last year, we were so preoccupied with the task of scouring the Shire that we scarcely had the chance to think of anything else. At the beginning and middle of this year, though our enemies had fled, it was a period of restoration. But the process was such a success that this year, 1420 in the Shire Reckoning, has become known as the "great year of plenty." For this reason, I want you to come to visit before the year comes to a close, and the perfect occasion for you to do so is imminent._

_As you many already be aware, my birthday arrives on the twenty second of this month, and I shall be fifty-two. I invite you to come and join in the festivities. It feels to me as though this year has passed by more slowly than any, and I much desire to see you. I hope you will pardon my lack of contact; but know that amidst all the commotion of this past year I have not forgotten you. I hope to see you soon._

_Yours Truly,_

_Frodo Baggins._

"Dear Frodo! I exclaimed, and upon setting down the letter, a great tide of emotions washed over me. I was relieved, first and foremost, that Frodo was safe and well, and that he had not become indifferent to me as time had passed. I trembled still, but at this point with joy, for in a mere few days I would prepare for and set out on the two-day ride to Hobbiton; it would not be long till I saw Frodo and Sam again.

I arrived in Hobbiton about midday of the twenty-second, and I realized only then that I did not know where I was. I rode on horseback through the territory of full-blooded Hobbits, vainly searching for a residence whose location I did not know, and I had never felt so utterly lost, not even in the years of my ceaseless roaming.

I continued traveling in circles as it seemed, and because I dared not stop to ask for guidance, was about to abandon my cause, when I heard a voice address me:

"Hi! Tallah! What a chance that we should find you. Are you looking for Frodo?"

Incredulous, I spun around, not expecting to see Frodo's cousins, Merry and Pippin, seated on a nearby patch of grass, each with a pipe in his mouth. "As a matter of fact, I was just searching for Frodo. But I have had not an iota of success. Would you be kind enough to direct me?"

"If you've come for the party," Pippin replied, "then you are welcome to come with us. It is to be held behind the Hill. We are going as soon as we finish our smoke. Take the time to sit for a while with us and talk."

I thanked them graciously and sat beside them, and as I did so, was instantly reminded of our days together during the four-month journey to Bree. I had spent a decent amount of that time conversing with and becoming acquainted with the two younger Hobbits, though I had always felt closer to Frodo and Sam.

I could hardly contain my enthusiasm when I thought of seeing the latter two again. As we approached the Hill, I trembled with joy, but as we neared the party site, I saw that the party had commenced some time ago, and that Frodo was lost in a sea of friends and close family. It would be some time before he noticed I was present. In the meantime I greeted the newly-wed Sam and Rose, and after they and Merry and Pippin had moved along, I sat on the outer skirts, watching all the activity around, wishing vainly that I could take part, and occasionally rising to eat a bite. At times I caught a glimpse of Frodo from afar, and on one such occasion, later in the evening when a good deal of the guests had parted, his eyes met mine. I smiled at him sheepishly as he came in my direction with haste.

"Tallah!" he exclaimed as soon as he was standing in front of me. "Long have I attempted to search you out. Why did you not present yourself sooner? I would have introduced you to everybody, and you would not have simply sat here in solitude."

"I did not come to you," I replied, "because I saw that you were content to be with other friends and family. I was uncertain whether you wanted your strange friend intruding upon your moments of joy. Now that Minas Tirith is saved and restored, there is nothing that I desire more than to see you in bliss."

"Why, Tallah," Frodo laughed, producing a gentle but musical kind of sound, rich and dazzling as a waterfall of Ithilien. "If that were the case, I would not have invited you here; I assure you that I did not send you an invitation for the sake of duty."

And he took me by the arm and started introducing me to his relatives that had not already left. Though I was uncertain at first of what they would make of me, most received me well, and a mutual fondness formed between me and good deal of them. But a few of the more cynical neighbors raised skeptical eyebrows when I was presented as a 'close friend,' and it was evident from their faces that they wondered from whence came this bizarre friend and what her purpose was in making such a late, unexpected appearance at the party.

Because of this, I grew troubled, and when the party concluded, I spoke again to Frodo.

"I regret that some of your kin question my identity and my relation to you. It was not my purpose in arriving here to spread idle gossip or to blemish your reputation."

"Do not worry," he said. "Long before I knew of your existence, folks have questioned me. I do not let it affect me. In fact, I want you to visit with me a few weeks longer, if it is possible. I would offer for you to stay with me at Bag End if I did not fear that your honor would be questioned. But there are plenty of good, homely inns around, in particular _The Green Dragon._ The choice is yours whether to accept or decline."

Naturally, I chose to stay in the Shire. I remained close to Frodo and Sam, but Merry and Pippin also visited with us often, and though Frodo's birthday had passed, there was still much merrymaking and glee. More than anything, Frodo liked to walk through the surrounding green country, especially when his mind was restless, and often I would accompany him. After twilight, I would retire to my room at the inn in order that no question concerning us was raised.

Everyone was merry during this time, and all went smoothly till October the sixth. I arrived at Bag End about midday, and it was Sam who greeted me. Overt concern was written upon his face as he did so, and his voice dripped with alarm.

"My Master is ill today, and I don't know why. You may go in to see him if you'd like, but he shunned me when I did earlier."

This evoked immediate concern from me; if even Sam had been turned way, then what was Frodo apt to say to me? Yet I went to him nevertheless – how could I ignore it if he were in such a state?

I wrapped on the door, and the response came promptly enough: "Come in, Sam."

"It is not Sam. It is I, Tallah."

There was a long pause, and I was nearly certain that he would tell me to take leave, but I heard him feebly respond, "Come in," mere moments later.

I entered and stood by his bedside. "I have heard that you are very ill. Is there anything I might do for you while I am here?"

Frodo looked in my direction, but it was as if he looked through me and gazed instead into the distance with a vacant stare. "I am ill. But you cannot help me, Tallah. No one can. There is not anything to be done for me."

I stood in silence for quite a length of time, uncertain of what to expect. "If there is nothing I can do, then there is no purpose in my staying here. Would it be best that I leave?"

"Yes," he replied. "If you please. I am sorry, Tallah."

"Very well, then. I take my leave. Farewell, and I do mean that. I wish you good health and a speedy recovery." And I left the room.

For the remainder of that day, I took to solitude. I did not leave my room at _The Green Dragon_ save to gather the supplies I would need in order to depart on the following day. If Frodo was to be ill and did not desire my presence during this period, then there was no purpose in further prolonging my visit. I made my preparations industriously; all was completely ready by twilight, and I retired early so that when I set out the following morning, I would be well rested.

But the morning of the seventh, a messenger came to my room.

"Frodo Baggins is here to see you," he informed me.

"He is? Is there some sort of error?" I wondered aloud to myself. But I saw that there was not, as I walked out into the common room, I spotted Frodo seated alone at a table in the nearest corner.

At once, I went to greet him. "Frodo! What is the meaning of you wandering around town in a state of illness? Should you not be in bed at this moment?"

"Save your protests. I am better today, and no longer need rest. Won't you take a seat?"

I gladly complied. "Then my wish to you for a speedy recovery did you some good."

"I do not believe that is the reason. Yesterday was the sixth of October. You might recall that is the anniversary of when I got stabbed on Weathertop."

"I do recall that now, and wonder why I did not guess the cause of your malady yesterday."

"It has been nearly one full year since we have last met. I know how much one can forget in one year. I hope that from this year to next, it will prove easier to keep contact. I regret that so much time has elapsed between our visits. Also, I apologize for yesterday. I am sure that I appeared very cross."

"There is no need to apologize," said I. "I know all too well the effects that physical illness can have on the emotions."

"Is it true that you were set to leave today?" he continued.

"Yes, it is true."

"I do not want you to leave with negative thoughts of me, as you undoubtedly had yesterday. Will you stay at least one more day, so that I may give you a proper farewell?"

"I would be glad to, because you ask it of me, and because I very much desire it as well."

He treated me to a drink, which was of remarkable quality, even compared to the beers of the _Prancing Pony._ And he explained to me that this great year of plenty had produced the best of every sort of crop. There had been great joy and lightheartedness throughout the entire year, and I considered myself fortunate to have visited during such a flourishing period.

After we had finished, we went out of the inn and commenced our daily stroll. We conversed, mainly exchanging info about happenings in Bree and the Shire. But after a time, silence fell between us, and as I looked over at Frodo, I saw that he did not smile and that his mind dwelt on other thoughts. I noted also the he clutched the necklace, which, I was surprised to note, was still around his neck.

"May I ask about the purpose of the necklace?" I asked.

He turned to me, and as his eyes met mine, I saw that they held none of their previous joy; I wondered at the sudden change in his mood. "It was a gift," he answered at length, "from your Queen Arwen. It is the Evenstar, and it comforts me slightly when I feel traces of my former burden. But nothing can ever take it away. I have found no one to console me."

He must have detected my silent grief when he said this, because he added, "Do not find fault with yourself. Not even all my friends and family whom I have known for years can take the sorry away from me. Alas that some wounds simply never heal!" And once again, he fell to silence, and I felt as despondent as he.


	14. 13: The Last Parting

Disclaimer: See previous chapter.

A/N: This is it, everyone! **Please review, even if you didn't like it. If you do, I'm likely to read and review for you.** I've noticed that I have way more hits than reviews, and I'd like to know whether you don't like it or you just aren't reviewing.

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Chapter 13: _The Last Parting_

I heard from Frodo in April and stayed in the Shire for a short visit. But it was long before he wrote me again after that, and come the beginning of September, I began to eagerly await the invitation to Frodo's birthday celebration. None came, and a week to the twenty-second I started to wonder. At last, not three days before Frodo's birthday, a message came to me, but it was not from him. It was a terse message that read:

_If you wish to see Frodo again then you must ride to meet him by the Gulf of Lune with all haste._

_--Gandalf._

I did make haste to commence my journey, believing that Gandalf had departed soon after leaving the note. Whither he and Frodo were going, and why Frodo had not been with him in Bree was not clear. But I had a sinking sensation that, if I did not depart quickly, then the prospect of seeing Frodo again would be forever lost to me.

Therefore, I rode out from Bree the next day, even before dawn, and continued riding with all speed, rarely stopping to eat or sleep, and most of the little time I allotted to the latter was spent in tossing and turning uneasily. Though I had become accustomed over the years to functioning on few hours of rest, I became thoroughly exhausted after five days of pressing on thus, and had to devote half a day to rest. All the faster did I travel during the latter half of my journey.

As I neared the Gulf, I saw no sign of life save for the birds of the heavens that flitted about, and I wondered why Frodo had chosen to come to such a place, and whither he was proceeding from here. Doubts also arose in my mind as to whether I was too late and would never see him again.

Finally, I caught sight in the distance of a great company of Elven folk gathered near the Gray Havens. This, though I had never witnessed it directly, did not surprise me, for I knew it to be a fairly common occurrence in recent Middle-earth. The thought occurred to me then that, perhaps, Frodo had arrived hither in order to bid farewell to some of these fair folk, for in many circumstances he had been called an Elf-friend. But if that were the case, wherefore was I also here, who had never made friend of a single Elf?

Quite suddenly, I heard the sound of hoofs from somewhere off to my left, though I knew not how many riders approached. I decided to see the great assembled company for myself rather than seek out the other travelers. But when I reached the Havens, I saw that there were two of them, dressed in noble attire and riding atop ponies. And I recognized them as Merry and Pippin; they must have come on a more direct course, from the South, as I had thought it best to circumvent the Shire via a northern route, and thus I had not seen them.

Pippin said to Frodo something that I did not hear, but I rode closer, so that I was in view, and dismounted at once in order to speak with Frodo. I called his name, and he turned to me, quite shocked.

"Tallah! It is a surprise to find you here." And upon examining me further, he exclaimed, "But great Elbereth! How very different you look. Is it that you have eaten and slept so little over the past few months?"

"Over the past few days, yes," I said. "I made such haste to arrive here at the proper time that I have hardly paused in my journey at all. But you also appear different to me." I studied him and saw that, though his features and eyes held none of their former joy, his face was fairer than ever I had seen it, and he seemed almost as sad and beautiful as the Elves that were ready to depart. "Wherefore have you come here?"

"Have you not guessed it? It is my time to depart, Tallah. I have done what I have been assigned, but the traces of my former burden shall never lessen as long as I live in Middle-earth. My part in this tale is now over."

"Surely you are only jesting?" I asked, but I could tell by his face that he was not. "I do not understand why it must be so," I said at last, "But I see that it brings you contentment, though I will miss you dearly." However, I could not keep the tears from my eyes, and when I tried to wipe them away with my hand, Gandalf said:

"I will not say 'do not weep,' for not all tears are evil."

Then I wept openly, for I could not bring myself to believe that Frodo was leaving Middle-earth forever, a fact I had only discovered mere minutes ago. Frodo took hold of my hand.

"Do not think of this parting as only bitter," he said. "Now you may return to your City and spend many merry years there."

"This I shall do, though I shall not be as happy in a fair land where I have many casual acquaintances as in Bree where I was close to a few, dear friends."

Then Frodo stood on this toes so as to kiss my brow, and he kissed Merry and Pippin, and last of all Sam. And he went aboard, still appearing as fair as the Elves in the company. He looked back and smiled one last time before vanishing out of sight forever, not to be seen again by another soul on Middle-earth.

The three Hobbits wept as well, and eventually turned back, riding back to the Shire, all together. But I stayed long and watched the receding form of the ship. Life henceforth, I knew, would not be the same without Frodo. And then I acknowledged that I had never fully fathomed how much I loved the dear Hobbit. From the moment he had departed, I had wished for a different ending to this tale, a merrier one. And I imagined that all of us dwelt happily in the Shire, land of peace, and were never torn asunder. I then recalled the dream I had had before I awoke in Ithilien, and, vain as I knew it was, yearned, as I had as I dreamt it, that it would become a reality.

_But it is over,_ I thought repeatedly. _He is gone; I cannot change that._ And, though it required hours, I finally determined to abandon my vain dreams. Rather than thinking only of my desires, I ought to dwell on how much more content Frodo must be now, for he had known much pain and illness even as he dwelt in the peaceful Shire. Now was his chance for eternal repose in a land of complete serenity, untroubled by any grief or illness. And all of this he had received, no more than he merited, though it still brought me some grief to dwell on it.

Even so, perhaps this parting, this last parting, should not be so entirely bitter for me. Would Frodo and I not meet again in death? When we did, would we not both be happy in paradise together and never be parted again?

Then I put my mind to rest and resolved to finally leave the past behind, not because I did not miss Frodo, but because it was vain to wish for the power to change that which had passed. Yet, if I did, there was but one event I would alter, and it was not Frodo's passing. Because I loved him, I desired what was truly best for him, and I was confident that he was now in true bliss, which I knew I could not have provided for him.

After a long space, far after the moon had ceased to glisten on the surface of the water, I arose and prepared for the journey home, long after the ship had sailed into and beyond the West.


End file.
